Apprentice of War
by Dr-I-Know-All
Summary: Hermione's abuse of the time-turner during her Third Year means she's starting the summer before her 5th Year already free of the Trace. The Order doesn't know. What will Professor Snape do when he comes upon the young Gryffindor one night? Why is Hermione's magic so strange now that she's 17?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

Hermione peered around the corner quickly, hoping not to have woken anyone, before quickly bounding down the stairs. The normally creaky stairs had been fixed yesterday after Hermione pointed out a simple spell in her books to repair and cushion the steps. Molly had been more than excited, especially since the book Hermione had used was one of Molly's old magical homecare books.

"Oh, such a good girl, what a wonderful mother you'll make!" Molly had slipped out.

Really, all Hermione had wanted was the chance to slip outside without the twins popping up – with a literal, ear-splitting pop – to catch her. One creak and the twins seemed to not only wake up alarmingly fast but also know it was her who was sneaking around. One time, she had even managed to waken the Mrs. Black portrait in the middle of the night, which had the entire house one her with wands drawn in under a minute. After getting caught 4 or 5 . . . or seven . . . times, the whole of Grimmauld Place seemed convinced she was going to run away.

Hermione padded through the unusually empty and dark kitchen, looking out the windows to check for and guards. Who knew what the Order had planned for the final safehouse, but if they were guarding it already she was screwed. They would see her and she would never get peace.

She took out her vinewood wand and waved it at the door, silencing the creaking monstrosity. There. If anyone had seen that they would know she was of age, something she definitely didn't want even Harry or Ron to know.

She slipped out of the Fidelius protected home with a sigh. She was clear of the hardest part of the outing. The small garden in the back of Grimmauld Place was fine for small jaunts, but Hermione really needed a larger place to practice. With a look around at the street and finding it bare, Hermione apparated away.

It was strange, being on the outskirts of the Burrow without the Weasley family, she thought. The house seemed empty, but she knew better. Chances were Moody was sleeping in the living room, guarding the house for the Order.

Hermione didn't notice the shimmering that seemed to approach from the house, or the eyes on her back, watching her, as she turned away from the Burrow.

Trembling, Hermione took out the photographs she had packed from her pocket. These were harmless ones, with just her in them. She had taken her polaroid around Grimauld one day to get practice photos for tonight.

She sighed. Time to try some spells. She took out her wand and point it at one photo. " _Obscuro."_

The whole picture turned blurry, and Hermione could still see herself in it.

Hermione's brow puckered. She reached for the next photograph, hardly noticing as she didn't even reach all the way before it flew into her hand. Nor did she realize the sharp intake of breath from her observer at the act. She was flipping to another page in her book, looking for a spell.

" _Occaeco_."

The wand didn't seem to register the command, like it lacked something. Her magic fluttered in her hand, but it didn't reach her wand. Hermione tried it again. No luck. An idea occurred.

" _Occaeco Hermione._ "

Finally, her image seemed to fall from the image. She grinned.

Hermione was too excited to register the now visible intruder on her solitude. She set up two images right next to each other. " _Occaeco Hermione._ "

Both images of her faded from view at once.

"Finally!" Hermione hopped excitedly.

Taking 5 more photos, she set them up at various intervals in the field, testing the distances of the spell. Stretching her wand and hand out, she drew her magic out to her hand. Then, pointing her wand at her hand, incanted, " _Occaeco Hermione_."

The spell glowed a sad blue in her hand before she pushed it out towards the photographs. It was like a wall, sweeping over the grass without impact. This time, the figure merely watched the extraordinary magic with silence, wondering.

" _Accio_ photographs!" Hermione called, and all five landed in her hand, showing only landscapes.

For a moment she smiled, but then she remembered why this was necessary. Hermione sighed instead, letting the photos fall to the ground. _My parents will be safe,_ she reminded herself. _They will be far away before Voldemort can move on them._

"Miss Granger."

With a yelp, she whirled on the figure behind her, wand at the ready.

Professor Snape stood before her with his typical expressionless face and black robes. Besides the bags under his eyes, Snape looked the same as always. To Severus, however, Miss Granger had changed very much over the summer. She had grown out her hair, which was now most of the way down her back. That seemed to at least control the curls she had now, he mused. Her frizz was gone, and her muggle clothes showed her physical maturity.

"Professor?" Hermione inquired.

Snape smirked. "Are you asking, or are you going to verify my identity? Come now, Miss Granger, if I'm not who I say I am, you lowering your wand could mean death. Pick a question, and carefully."

She bit her lip. What would Professor Snape know that no one else would? "What potion is on page 164 of _Most Potente Potions_ , and what are the ingredients used?"

His eyes flashed as a smile broke on his features, invigorating his appearance. "It's not a potion, it's a tincture. A powder made of crushed pixie wings, a drop of the recipient's blood, and some nettle leaf harvested by virgins under a new moon. It's known simply as Infertis in that particular text, and is usually mixed with scotch or whiskey of some sort – not firewhiskey, as that has magical properties – and given to the woman to ensure pregnancy. If you wanted one for men you'd need to substitute the pixie wings for two crushed and matching male vampire canines. Hasn't really been used by anyone but purebloods since the 1900s."

Hermione lowered her wand with a smile. "Now who's the know-it-all, sir?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "You, Miss Granger, still hold that honour. Now, care to explain yourself?"

Snape watched curiously as the smile on his Miss Granger's face shifted instantly to one of fear. Practicing magic wasn't something to be afraid of, necessarily. Maybe Miss Goody-Two-Shoes-Gryffindor was afraid if the reaction of the Weasleys to her sneaking out.

"Aren't you going to test my identity, Professor?" Hermione quipped nervously.

Sighing, Snape motioned towards the Burrow. "I sense this will be a lengthy conversation, Miss Granger. Gather your things and we'll converse in a slightly more civilized setting."

The professor eyes his hesitant student. She hadn't looked scared at him, but now her Gryffindor strength seemed to have fled. He nearly growled when she remained still, rather than obeying his instructions.

"Miss Granger, you explain yourself to me, or I take you back to Number 12 to explain yourself to the entire Order," Snape snapped.

Ducking and gathering the photos and beaded bag from the ground, Hermione fearfully followed her Potions Professor to the well-known Weasley home. The door creaked as Snape strode inside, and Hermione followed as demurely as possible. Snape pulled out a seat at the kitchen table and quirked and eyebrow as if daring her to question him, or to refuse the seat.

Once Miss Granger had accepted the seat, Snape strode swiftly to the opposite side and sat across from her. There would be no mistaking it; Miss Granger needed to know that this was an interrogation and that he WOULD be getting answer.

"Speak."

Hermione hesitated, looking down at the table. Finally, she decided on the truth.

"I haven't been able to sleep for the past week." There. The strangest thing was out. Everything else just flowed. "It's not that I have just been stressed, or that I've been having nightmares, it's that I haven't _needed_ sleep for a week. I don't feel tired, Professor, just the opposite; I feel more _alive_ during the nighttime.

"You remember my Third Year, Professor?" Hermione asked him hesitantly. She was saddened when he only provided a single jerky nod. "The time-turner I was given may have seen more use than I told Professor McGonagall."

She saw Snape's jaw tense, and hurriedly explained, "I didn't disobey the rules Professor McGonagall gave me, sir, except … well, I used the time-turner every day, and there weren't many hours that year where two of me weren't running around the school, including nighttime. Occasionally, there, er, were three of me at Hogwarts."

"Miss Granger!" Snape growled. "There's a reason they're not used for reasons other than study at Hogwarts! Greater men than you have become addicted to time magic. What reason could you possibly have for using it so excessively?"

Hermione tensed. "I . . . I did, sir. Get addicted."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course she had. Minerva had been all too proud of how her little Gryffindor protégé had comported herself during her third year, and it turns out she was just good at hiding her failures. _What had Albus been thinking, giving an easily taken mind such a powerful object?_

Hermione saw how he seemed to be losing patience with her, and rushed to explain.

"I didn't do anything wrong with it," she tried to justify herself. "I was able to study anything I wanted for 8 hours a night, every night, for an entire school year without the trace giving me away or teachers looking over my shoulder. That's when I learned to apparate, sir."

"By yourself?!" Snape roared. "You could have been killed!"

"I had to!" Hermione defended back. "Every year, Harry was in danger. Then with Sirius … if he had been the person behind Harry's parents' death, we might have needed a quick getaway."

Snape glared at her. "So, where did you practice, Miss Granger? Not within the Hogwarts wards, obviously."

She sighed. Rule three thousand and five she had broken that year. . . "Once Harry had the Marauder's map, I used the secret passage beneath the Whomping Willow to go to the Shrieking Shack to practice."

Snape froze, the blood draining from his face. "The year Lupin taught?"

"Yes sir."

"You went to the Shrieking Shack alone, regularly, the year we actually had a werewolf there?" Snape asked again, with a little more force in his voice.

"I knew Lupin was a werewolf, Professor!" she defended herself. "You're the one who set the essay, after all."

"But you can't have known we housed him in the Shrieking Shack," Snape pointed out tersely.

Hermione sighed. "I didn't, you're right. But to be fair to Professor Lupin, he had your Wolfsbane. He was no threat, really . . ."

Snape knew that look in her eyes. He narrowed his own into a glare and tried to spit the words out between his teeth, "Did you SEE him, Granger?"

She nodded.

Snape was up in a second, yelling at her. "FOOLISH GIRL! FOOLISH DUMBLEDORE! Mark my words, he KNEW something like this would happen! And he still lets that werewolf transform so close to the school! You're lucky he didn't KILL YOU!"

Hermione yelped when his hands nearly decimated the kitchen table between them. "We're bringing you to the headmaster, immediately!"

"NO!" Hermione yelped. "Professor, please, you can't tell them! Not yet! Please!"

"Tell them what, Miss Granger?" Snape hissed. "That you're not to be trusted on your own? That Lupin is a menace even in his most docile state? That you are abusive with powerful magic? Maybe that you don't deserve the title of Brightest-Witch-of-Her-Age?"

Hermione snapped. "Listen to me! Don't you even care that I was using magic just now?! I turned seventeen two weeks ago!"

That tore Snape out of his hate-rant. He froze, looking at her. "You aged 15 months in one school year?"

Hermione nodded, watching in caution.

"You're sure?"

"I wouldn't have been able to do the magic I've been doing without at least a letter from the Ministry, otherwise," Hermione explained sadly. "I did the math when I first felt … different. With the amount I used the time-turner, I aged 1 year, 3 months, 6 days, and 10 hours."

Snape paced across his side of the table. The girl had definitely overused the time-turner as much as she could. That means at least a third of the year she had been using it to triple the length of her days. She had probably suffered massive withdrawals from the time magic the summer before her fourth year.

"And why, Miss Granger, would you want to keep this from everyone else?" Snape asked, now eyeing the girl.

She dipped her head even lower. "I won't keep it from them forever," she defended weakly.

"That was not my question."

She fiddled with her fingers. Hermione was scared, scared to tell someone so close to Dumbledore what she had planned.

"I have something I need to do first," she hedged.

Snape wasn't letting up. "And that is?"

No escape.

"I'm getting my parents out of the country, sir."

Snape looked at the young girl. She still wasn't meeting his eyes, but there was a resolve there that indicated her strength.

He kept his voice cold. "And they need that level of protection?"

Hermione stared resolutely down. She forced her voice to not give way to the tears she felt. "I'm one of the things Harry would do anything for, sir," she said analytically, detached. "Sooner or later, the Death Eaters will realize that the easiest way to get to Harry is through his friends. Getting to me in person is almost as hard as trying to get to Harry, but unlike him I have my parents. They're sitting ducks, Professor, and they don't have magic to protect themselves."

"And they have agreed to this course of action, Miss Granger?" Snape leveled his gaze at her. He knew very well that good parents, the parents that weren't like his own, would never allow their daughter into this war. They'd take her with them. True to his instincts, Miss Granger looked down guiltily.

"They … they won't go without me," Hermione admitted, her eyes tearing up. "I tried to get them to understand how dangerous it is, how weak they are against magic but they won't budge. They asked if the Order could help, set up some protections, but nothing you guys can do with promise them safety if the stay.

"They would leave if I was going with them," Hermione said while forcibly blank. "So I told them I would. They're closing up their practice, going to Australia … they have everything ready. A house, a bank account … I convinced them to change their names too. But … Harry's like my brother. I can't leave him, and I won't abandon everyone here to You-Know-Who. I'll erase their memories first."

She shut her eyes tight in the anguish, tears coming to her eyes. "If they don't remember me there's nothing to keep them here. I'm going to erase their memories of me and they'll leave. They _have_ to leave."

Snape allowed the girl a moment to process this. It was the first thing you learnt while dealing with the war – many people did not realize the implications of it until they'd spoken it aloud. The girl had kept this all bottled in her heart, had told no one of her plans and so it would take a moment for the reality of what she was preparing to do sink in. He could allow her that moment.

When she appeared to have regained a little of her bearing, he felt allowed to speak. "You're prepared to live the rest of your life without your family? Memory charms of this scale . . ."

"Are often irreversible because of the amount of damage restoring the memories would cause," she recited quickly, so quick that the tremble in her voice was nearly undetected. Nearly.

Snape wasn't convinced. "And this is . . . an acceptable loss for you?"

Hermione nodded into her hands, fighting the clenching in her throat. "Knowing they're safe would be enough."

He felt some degree of respect for her decision. Muggles, if targeted like hers were, wouldn't last more than a few months now that the Dark Lord had returned. They would be defenseless against him, and with Miss Granger so involved in Potter's problems she wouldn't even be there to defend them. Nobody would.

Oh, Dumbledore would reassure her that he could ward the home, but the magic of that ward would be like a beacon to the Dark Lord that only confirmed that there was something he wanted beyond that barrier. He would get them. Even if they set up patrols – which no one had time for and they certainly had no people for – a time would come when it was only Fletcher protecting them and he would run the moment Death Eaters arrived. There was no hope if they remained.

Miss Granger was in the impossible position of being the only muggleborn so close to the order, meaning she had to decide between her parents' safety and Potter's. By removing their memories, she allowed all her loyalties to remain fixed. She was neither abandoning her parents to death, or Potter to a war without her.

Yet, it was also a completely idiotic idea.

"And you've practiced memory charms so extensively, Miss Granger, that you're willing to use the most complicated of them on your loved ones?" He asked cuttingly.

Silence.

"As I thought," Professor Snape intoned. "To perform that complicated of a memory wipe, Miss Granger, to such a _specific_ and _long-ranging_ extent would require a Master of Legilimency with copious opportunities for practice on living beings."

"I was going to start practicing that tonight!" she defended herself.

"On whom, Miss Granger?" he jeered her. "Your cat? Field mice? You're not going to be capable of this for another few years even if you practice every sleepless night, with actual human targets."

She slumped in her seat under Snape's gaze, the vision of hopelessness. After letting his point sink in for a few moments, Snape provided her relief.

"However, Miss Granger, that is irrelevant because within the Order itself, there are two perfectly proficient wizards who can assist you," he revealed.

He watched her posture take on hope before him and it made his lip quirk involuntarily upwards. She was so easy to please, he noted, as she smiled up at him hopefully.

"Who are they?" she begged.

This was the advantage he was looking for. Professor Snape decided to torment her a little bit. "Of course, the first is Albus Dumbleore."

"Not him," Hermione begged. "He won't support my decision."

"You're right, of course," Professor Snape allowed. "Dumbledore would insist you all remain One more move on a chessboard, and every move is valuable to him.

"The other person might be willing to assist you, but for a price," Snape continued with a quirk of his brow. "They are not the most giving of individuals."

She nodded at him, giving in to whatever abstract demand he would ask.

"Tell me," Professor Snape drawled, "have you, in your plethora of studies, practiced Occlumency?"

She nodded again, her eyes growing desperate.

"Show me."

She sat up straight in her chair, a determined glint now entering her eyes. "Test me, sir."

Hermione centered herself, waiting for the new presence to enter her mind. She focused on her defenses, her fight coming through.

Then, she heard Professor Snape intone, "Legilimens!"

The battle had started.

Professor Snape looked in her mind with intrigue. No flashes of memory dancing past him, no lack of control. He saw in their place a snowstorm which sucked him of all warmth. _Impressive._ He saw a hazy light somewhere ahead of him, clearly intended to lead any intruders of her mind right there. He held out a imaginary hand, catching a flake in his hand. He looked, hoping to find one of those memories in his hand now. Instead, he was overwhelmed by a feeling of joy. No memory cropped up, but a distinct taste of Hermione was left on him by the snowflake.

He tried to think. The memories had to be here, somewhere, in order for this to be a defense. The key was figuring out how to break through and find them, wherever they were. Certainly not in the direction of the light, if Miss Granger were as smart as he believed. He crouched on the snow and dug a little, seeing if they were beneath the snow. Only cold dirt greeted him, and he looked around again, trying to find them.

Finally, aware of how taxing this could be, he withdrew. Miss Granger had her hands in a distinctly meditative pose on the table, clearly still fighting in case he returned. A small bit of pride found its way through to Snape's cold demeanour.

"You've passed inspection, Miss Granger," Professor Snape allowed the praise to fall from his lips. "Therefore, I will trust you to guard the identity of the second person with such methods."

Hermione smiled in relief at her Professor. "Of course, I promise. Who is it?"

Professor Snape grinned menacingly. "Me."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

"You?" Hermione hesitated. "You would help me?"

For the first time in a long while, she observed the Potions Master with more than just trepidation. He did give off an imposing figure, but that was more the way he looked down on everyone from his 6'5" stature and the black robes he wore. He had a completely expressionless face, but not in a bad way; it just meant he had no blemishes, wrinkles, or other distinguishing or emotive feature when his face was blank. His most emotive features were his eyebrows, which were now quirked in either amusement or mischief, she couldn't tell.

"I did say there would be a price, didn't I?" Snape reminded her. "And I have very selfish tendencies, Miss Granger. It will not be an easy trade."

Suddenly extremely self-aware, she nodded. "I expect that. What do you want?"

"An apprentice."

Severus was pleased with the fish-like gaping he'd elicited from the young Gryffindor. "You want me to take preventative measures for two people, to save two lives. Only seems fitting you bequeath your whole life to me, doesn't it?" he smiled his practiced grin at her. "I have no use for money or anything else you can offer, Miss Granger, so there will be no other options. You have one thing I want, and it is your . . . adequate brain.

"Someone who can do the busy work of being a Potions Master while I actually try to win the war would be the only thing you can offer me," Severus continued as if she wasn't still refusing to answer. "I would determine the course of your education, I'd plan your every day, dictate your secrets . . . I would be responsible for training you in these new talents you're developing in light of the trace removal. And as all Apprentices, the only escape would be when _I_ choose to release you.

"Now, I realize the history of apprenticeship contracts is filled with abuses, but that's just a risk you'd have to take, isn't it?" he sneered. "That is, if you want my help."

He observed the girl coolly, watching as her eyes flitted all over the place as she obviously thought through the consequences to agreeing with him. If she was a true Gryffindor, she would agree in her next sentence. If she were a Hufflepuff, she would promise to help regardless of an apprenticeship contract. A Ravenclaw would jump at the chance to be the renowned Potions Master's first apprentice, the chance to learn what made him one of the few Masters of the subject. And a Slytherin would demand to see the contract first. Her reaction was curious, for she was doing none of the above. She was still thinking it through, her eyes flitting uncontrollable.

He decided to give her more time. Moving to the stove, he quickly put on the kettle and gathered two mismatched mugs for tea. Still nothing from the girl.

"How can I apprentice to a Master if I still haven't taken my OWLS or NEWTS?"

Ah, so she was going through semantics. "Am I correct in presuming the first thing you did with the extra time your Third Year is work through all the content for the remainder of your Hogwarts curriculum?"

She had the nerve to giggle behind him. "I guess you're right."

He nodded, pouring the now boiling water into the mugs. "Are you capable of performing your NEWTS, Miss Granger?"

There was no reply. Severus waited, pulling sugar and milk from their hiding holes around the kitchen and keeping their near until his tea steeped.

"Let's rephrase, then," Professor Snape continued, "and ask which subjects you couldn't take your NEWTS for right now without a sure Exceeds Expectations."

"Potions."

He barked a laugh involuntarily. He couldn't help it. "Of course not. It's the one subject where theory and books do nothing if you can't apply them. You haven't had the chance to brew the seventh-year potions yet, and so don't know if you can, correct?"

"Yes sir."

He eyed the girl. "Well, how fortunate it is to have a Potions Master offering to train you, isn't it?"

Severus watched in amusement as the girl's smile returned. Of course she'd be thrilled to not be judged unworthy, the girl had always feared being looked down upon. He'd need to train her in controlling those fears. With confidence, she'd perform wonders in Potions. If she could become a Mistress of Potions, he would finally be able to stuff it in Minerva's face as well. Admittedly, it was only an added bonus, but the old Scottish lady was always bragging about getting the little Gryffindor to advance in her own subject. One has to relish the small victories.

"So, besides your apparent inexperience, any other reservations?"

He watched her expression shift, yet again. Goodness, she may be good at Occlumency, but her face betrayed everything. That needed to get under control. It was plain as day she was scared to ask her questions.

"This is a choice, Miss Granger," he reminded her. "I do not want you fighting the choice you make, so I will answer your questions as honestly as I can. You should not fear rebuke for your queries."

The girl nodded, accepting his comfort.

"Sir, apprenticeships often have clauses of unreserved obedience," Miss Granger began. "It's like an Imperius Curse. What if someone finds out? Vol-"

"Don't say his name!" he exclaimed.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Hermione amended cautiously, "finds out, and you will be ordered to use me, or bring me to him. I can't be unwaveringly obedient, Professor Snape."

He thought on her concern. There was opportunity for a leak to occur, he agreed, if anyone in the Order were to be untrustworthy. But to have her being obedient was the perk of apprenticeship. He would be able to control her, finally, and get unopposed aid. To order her not to ask question in class, or to help him silently when he returned from a revel. Her silence . . .

Silence. That was the solution.

Severus looked on Miss Granger with a gleam. "Then we'll have to change the clause, won't we?" he drawled. "I think a consequence for disobedience will suffice, don't you? Maybe for every time you disobey me the contract will take your voice for a couple of hours. It would save me some headache, most likely. Would that suffice?"

It was fascinating to see her so obviously considering this. You could see her brain working behind her eyes, trying to think of everything before she agreed.

Severus took out the teabags and stirred the tea easily as she thought.

"How do you take your tea?" he asked Miss Granger.

"Just milk."

He stirred in the milk carefully, pretending to be attentive to his task and unbothered by her reticence. In truth, he was clenching and unclenching his jaw as he thought of the contract he would pull from the Ministry tomorrow, and the changes he would enact on it. _If_ the girl agreed.

He brought the mugs to the table and placed the garish maroon knitted patterned mug before his student, and sipped from his own plain white one.

"If you accept, you should know I take my tea with three sugars," he said lightly, trying to irritate her into acknowledging the power in his hand here. She seemed unperturbed by his insinuation, and sipped her tea with no look in his direction.

"Who can I tell?" she asked finally, looking at him.

"After you have signed the contract and we've moved your parents, we will both be informing the Order," he replied sternly. "And you may feel free to tell the Weasleys and Potter, I suppose. No one outside of the Order and their spawn is to be told, though, understood? At least until Hogwarts term recommences. It will be impossible to hide when you sit in on all my classes and grade my papers."

"Of course."

They both sipped the tea in silence again.

She knew she had no choice. Hermione Granger was nothing if not logical, and she knew that the man across from her was the only chance to get her parents to safety. He was willing to hide it from Dumbledore until it was already done and over, an impressive commitment. That also meant they needed to work quickly.

But to do it, Lady S.P.E.W would need to submit to becoming a veritable house-elf to Professor Snape. At his beck and call, obeying him or suffering punishment, with no way out until he released her. Oh, it was under the guise of finishing her apprenticeship, but she knew he wouldn't let her go until the war was over, at least. Having her in his corner was an advantage he would use to the fullest.

So it came down to whether or not Hermione could trust Severus Snape: Dungeon Bat, Death Eater, Double Agent, and Potions Master.

She drew a calming breath of her tea and took a final sip. "So, when do we get started?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

So it happened that Professor Snape and a rogue Gryffindor apparated into the living room of the Granger residence in the middle of the night.

Snape immediately went to the master bedroom to ensure that the parents stayed asleep using a fragrant infusion he fanned magically into their rooms while Miss Granger went room to room to take what little tokens she needed and removing all other traces of her from various pictures around the house.

They worked quickly and methodically, but Snape waited until Miss Granger joined him to remove the memories. He knew she would need to be here, to say her final goodbyes to the sleeping forms of the two most important people in her life.

Standing to the side as still as a board, he watched as Miss Granger leaned over the bed to brush her hands over her parents' faces.

"I love you, mom, dad," he heard her whimper. "This is for you. I will miss you, so much, but please understand that I need to do this to keep you safe. I'm not leaving you completely on your own though. I know you'll never take off your wedding rings, so I'm leaving a charm on them, for me. It'll let me know if you're in trouble and I'll be there to help you."

She sobbed once. "Even if you don't know me when I arrive."

The girl leaned in to hug them both before stepping back and wiping the tears away from her eyes.

"Do it, please," Hermione murmured in whisper.

Professor Snape dove into the father's mind first, pulling out his memories of Hermione and bottling them in a vial. Taking out almost 15 years worth of memories of his daughter was painful for the father who loved his daughter, and the space it left was bigger than he'd anticipated. He worked quickly to fill it with repeating memories of his wife and the love he felt for her. Nothing fake would keep, but real love and affection would remain. It took just as long to replace his name, only because he had to link it was all the different ways he associated himself with his old name. Mr. Granger would cease to exist.

It took nearly an hour to go through both parents' memories and change them to his liking. Finally, with two bottles of silvery memory and two changed people in front of him, he withdrew, his magic exhausted from the effort.

"Let's go finish our business, Miss Granger," Professor Snape whispered.

Hermione looked at him with tears in her eyes, and his breath caught in pain. He couldn't handle the pain he saw there, like her whole world was over. He looked away from her as she leaned back over to her parents.

"Goodbye mummy," she cried, kissing each of them. "Goodbye daddy. I love you."


	4. Chapter 4

Severus Snape blew into Hogsmeade as if made of the Southern wind that had warmed the air that day. He danced with it, almost, and walked with speed and grace alongside it. He did not look the part though; the dour potions professor in his overly formal clothing and his ever-fixed sneer were not the embodiment of the summer spirit in the village.

However, whatever spirit he lacked, Albus Dumbledore seemed to be overjoyed to take upon himself. The man was just leaving the book shop, and Snape had never seen such an appalling matching robes set. A bright yellow hat and bright yellow robes, covered with happy imagery of bluebirds, bluebells, and any number of blue summer imagery. The blue pompoms fixed to the points of his bright yellow shoes only made the look marginally more offensive. It must have been transfigured by the Headmaster himself, because Snape couldn't bear to think any sensible person would make the outfit.

"Severus, isn't it a marvelous day for a walk!" Dumbledore called. "Come, walk with me to the castle!"

Knowing it as an order, not invitation, didn't make the desire to resist any less strong. However, the potions master resigned himself to the humiliation of walking next the humiliatingly yellow headmaster.

He was going to ask about the girl he had followed, but as of yet he didn't want to reveal his hand. Severus Snape knew an advantage when he had it, and was going to play his cards carefully to avoid telling too soon. But if anyone could figure out what was going on with the girl, it was one of his two masters. He definitely wasn't going to risk her on the Dark Overlord, not for the world. Not yet, anyways.

As usual, however, Dumbledore was remaining intentionally obtuse in favour of annoying Snape into submission. Prattling on about the new school year, the students all being in Grimmauld.

"The new Defense against the Dark Arts professor will be trouble this year," Dumbledore finally said wearily.

Snape snorted derisively. "As opposed to a Death Eater, a werewolf, a liar, and a Jekyll & Hyde of the Dark Lord himself? I hate to think what the new teacher is to deserve that glowing praise."

"Cornelius has placed this one," Dumbledore continued on, ignoring him. "Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, one of the most profoundly unpleasant women I've ever met."

Snape was silent, but his jaw clenched.

"I have no doubt the Tom will inform you of how to receive her before term resumes," he continued pleasantly, as if speaking of an old friend. "If he doesn't, bring the matter to him. I want to know every detail of that exchange."

Snape nodded. "The Ministry interfering at Hogwarts . . ." he mused. "Unfortunately, the Dark Lord's interest in the school is not a limited one. If he orchestrated the placement, he'll be dripping with pleasure. But if he did not, and a Ministry lackey holds his coveted position, I believe I will be free to discourage her actions openly."

They continued their walk, but Snape was not doing so peaceably. He was waiting for the words that would open up the issue of Hermione Granger between them. Before they arrived by the Quidditch pitch, Dumbledore struck.

"Did you have something to tell me, Severus?" Dumbledore inquired on their walk up from Hogsmeade. "About a certain trip to the Burrow perhaps?"

"The girl is . . . strange," he summed up. "Very strange."

"Strange in what way, my boy?"

Snape glared at him. "Were you aware she was overusing that time-turner you gave her third year?"

Regarding his spy, Dumbledore saw the side of Severus Snape he'd seen more and more since Voldemort's return; angry, hostile, and full of doubt. Dumbledore know Snape would do what he asked, but at times like these it was best to give Severus as much information as he could. He didn't need to, but there was a part of Dumbledore that just wanted Snape to have a little peace.

"I had my suspicions," Dumbledore confirmed. "How much did she age herself?"

Snape scoffed. "That girl turned 17 a couple weeks ago. She more than doubled the year she had."

There was a pensive silence from Dumbledore.

"That girl is now an adult," Snape continued. "She's the same age as those Weasley twins, and she's been sneaking around so she can practice magic far beyond her educational leve. She learned apparition _on her own_ , Albus."

"We always knew she was exceptionally gifted," Dumbeldore reminded him. "It makes me glad she used her extra time to advance."

"She learned apparition on her own!" Snape exclaimed. "She admitted to doing it the year Sirius Black escaped, Albus! She was practicing in the Shrieking Shack!"

Dumbledore nodded. "Well, she was hardly at risk. Black was innocent, of course. And Lupin had your Wolfsbane."

Snape grumbled under his breath, "You sounds like Miss Granger."

The old man twinkled at his young friend. "I get the feeling there's something more to this story, Severus," Dumbledore admonished. "You wouldn't hide things from me, would you?"

"You will know soon, Headmaster," Snape replied respectfully. "For now, I want you to arrange for Miss Granger to take her NEWTS by the beginning of term."

The look on Dumbledore's face was priceless. A mixture of shock and of a twinkling curiousity that would only look right on the face of a dodgery old man. Finally, a calculative gleam entered his eyes.

"And why would that be required, my friend?" He asked politely.

Snape smirked. "Is it too much to ask that you trust me, my friend?"

Severus Snape's smirk grew as he watched the Headmaster nearly visibly huff at being out of the loop.

"The Ministry would never agree to that, not for a friend of Harry's." Dumbledore was more pensive now. "Although, the testing office does have an Adult NEWTS exam taking place once a month . . . If she were simply to show up for an exam there, and if Cornelius were unaware of it while it was happening, I doubt there will be a hassle."

Snape nodded. "Very well. I'll speak with Miss Granger."

Snape turned to leave, but Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. His face was stern.

"I will need to know why, Severus," Albus reminded him.

"Then I suggest we call an Order meeting," Severus remarked as impassively as he could. "We'll let them know the situation with the Ministry and Hogwarts, and whatever news I bring from the Dark Lord. Friday will suffice. If you wish, I'll share more of what happened with Miss Granger at that meeting. Otherwise, I must keep her confidence."

Not to mention the fact that it would give Severus the chance to reveal Granger's age in a public setting and force Dumbledore's hand on the matter. It would be a nice time to tell about Miss Granger's family and reveal his new apprentice as well.

"An excellent idea, my boy," Dumbledore agreed, suspicion marring the otherwise friendly tone. "Friday it is. I expect to be informed then."

"Harry needs to be here," Hermione griped to her friend. "He keeps writing us, and we can't even tell him we're here! He's going to hate us by the time summer's over."

It had been 3 days since Hermione had signed away her freedom, but Snape hadn't once come to collect or talk to her. Mrs. Weasley had no problem forcing her indentured servitude though.

Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were working through the old Grimmauld Place training room with wands, cleaning supplies, and a fair bit of Doxie Anti-Venom on their person. Still, wands or not, the filthy room was a mess not easily cleaned.

Ron tossed another petrified rat carcass in his garbage bag with a grimace. "If I were him I wouldn't want to be here," he pointed out. "I'd rather be bored than cleaning out doxie droppings from a haunted mansion."

"But he doesn't even know that's what we're doing!" Hermione fretted, moving towards a wardrobe balanced precariously on three feet. "He must think that we're ignoring him, or that we hate him. Oh, what if he got the Prophet and thinks we believe it?!"

"Harry knows we believe him!" Ron protested. "He's not just some bloke, 'Mione, he's Harry."

"I know!" she snapped. "But we've also never kept so many secrets from him."

Hermione had repaired the fourth leg of the wardrobe, and went to open it. In the wardrobe, she saw none other than Professor Snape. She yelped in surprise, bring Ron to her side in a second.

The fake-Snape stepped from the wardrobe dramatically, looking at her carefully. He had his wand out, and Hermione raised hers defensively.

"Did you really think I was good, _stupid Mudblood chit_?" Snape sneered at her. "You can't have really believed I would help you, some insignificant _child_? You are nothing but a pawn, Miss Granger, and your usefulness had _expired_."

"It's a boggart, 'Mione!" Ron told her. "Just think of something funny! Neville's Gran's clothes!"

"I'm going to bring you to the Dark Lord," Snape purred, reaching for her frozen figure. "I will be honoured, revered . . . and you? I doubt you'll even entertain him for five minutes, but you can hope, Miss Granger. There's no shame in wanting to be the best at _everything_. You should aim to be as entertaining of prey as you can, really; it may help you to last longer. I do enjoy watching the victims squirm and scream beneath his wand."

Hermione was frozen. She cou;dn't think, couldn't laugh. This scenario had run through her head briefly when she had first agreed to be the man's apprentice, but she had dismissed it before it could paralyze her.

"And young Mr Weasley and Potter, they don't even know how I got to you, do they?" Snape kept moving forward dangerously. "I could tell them. I could let them know how-"

She had to stop him. " _Expulso!"_

The Boggart flew back into the cupboard suddenly, and Hermione ran up to it to lock it. Her hands were shaking, and the boggart was fighting for its release, so it took a good moment before she could stop and breathe.

"Blimey," a voice came from behind them both.

Sirius Black, looking much more pink and clean then he ever had before, was in the doorway. He looked upon Hermione gently.

"Snape is a scary man, isn't he?" He asked. "Still, at least your Boggart wasn't a dead body of one of your friends, I suppose."

He sauntered into the room with a sad but aristocratic air.

"Molly wanted me to get you two into the kitchen," Sirius told them. "Lunch is ready, and the twins are apparating in and out and stealing all the rations. You best get in there before all the lunch is mysteriously in their room."

Ron ran at the news, yelling, "Leave some for me, wankers!" at the top of his lungs. Hermione on the other hand turned back to her cleaning.

"I'm not hungry," she lied. "You better head back, Sirius."

A chuckle let her know she was not believed. "Kitten, come on. I promise, it's no big deal. You handled it well. That expulsion charm put it in its place, so I say we leave it until we get Remus back from his full moon haunt to get rid of it and you forget about whatever it was about what old Snapey said that frightened you. What do you say?"

Hermione had to roll her eyes at his clearly puppy-esque charm. So, without hesitation, she took the friendly hand and was escorted quickly to the kitchen. Or, she would have been, if Mrs. Black hadn't started shouting curses at the top of her lungs indicating someone's arrival.

When they reached the first floor, Hermione found herself face to face with the man that was her boggart, sneering at her.

"What're you doing her, Snivellus?" Sirius ground out at the spy. "I thought you would be more against visiting – what was that charming phrase you used again? Ah, yes – my repulsive kennel."

Severus Snape glared at the Animagus in obvious loathing. "I take no pleasure in this _visit_ , mutt," he barked at the man. "However, Dumbledore wanted me to tell you and the Weasleys that there is going to be an Order meeting a 6PM on Friday."

"Fine," Black agreed. "You've delivered your message like a good owl. Now go."

"Sirius, behave!" Hermione said, affronted. Turning to her now-Master, she smiled a small smile at him. "We were just about to have lunch. You can join us, if you'd like."

Snape looked down at his apprentice with shrewd eyes. "I'd best be going, Miss Granger," he declined. "But it is nice to see you have remembered your manners, living here among dogs."

Snape swept his robes around him and made for the front door. Before he made it though, he turned and looked at the little Miss Granger, still looking at him with disappointed eyes.

"Miss Granger," he called maliciously, "we will be discussing your _punishment_ at this meeting. I would make yourself available to attend as well."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Malfoy Manor was always a strange collection of paradoxes. The outside was a thing of beauty, with light alabaster detailing and a renaissance style. The peacocks Lucius was so fond of (though he said they were Narcissa's to save face) were happy to strut the estate and did so cheerfully. However the inside of the luscious estate held the darkest and most repulsive dark lord ever to live, let alone live again.

Yet, here Severus Snape was, climbing up the hill to Malfoy Manor to willingly face the monster inside, armed with his wits and his wand, but knowing only the first would save him. Snape hoped that tonight not only would he be able to eat some of the Malfoy's food, but that Voldemort would be pleased enough with him to forgo his usual torture.

Snape grabbed the serpent's head knocker and rapped it against the door, let in immediately by a very tired-looking Narcissa. Her face was withdrawn more than usual, and her hair, though perfect, had lost its shine. She looked _old_.

"Lovely as ever, Lady Narcissa," Severus lied, kissing the knuckles of the ladies hands. "Where is Lucius?"

Narcissa smiled faintly. "He and his brothers are already in the dining room, waiting for a few more guests," she told him. "I'm certain our Lord is eager to receive you, Severus."

"Then I will not keep him waiting."

Striding over the lengthy entry way, Snape waited no time before knocking on the dining room door.

"Enter" came the voice from inside.

Observing the room was wise, Snape knew, but upon entering any gathering the wiser thing to do was to find the Dark Lord and bow until he instructed you to stop. She Snape ignored the rest of the Death Eaters, instead approaching the head of the table and setting himself firmly on one knee before the man who had cheated death.

"My Lord," he chanted low.

"Rise Severus," Voldemort allowed tersely, a mood which had Snape's neck hairs prickling in alert. "Take your seat here on my left."

 _Still in favour, then,_ Severus thought, relieved. He quickly sat in his designated seat, and looked towards his Lord.

"You sound troubled, my Lord," Severus noted with a touch of concern in his voice. "What ails you?"

The room stilled as Voldemort nodded at his servant. "As observant as ever, Severus," the Dark Lord drawled. "I shall reward your insight with knowledge; the Potter boy is as protected at home as he is at Hogwarts."

"With muggles!?" Bellatrix Lestrange led the uproar. "How do they protect him?"

Voldemort waved away the indignation of his follower. "Blood wards, of some kind. Dumbledore keeps the boy with the closest relative of his meddling mother so he can use the same magic that deflected the curse all those years ago to protect the boy _now_. Even I, with some of his blood in my veins, cannot attack."

Snape was recording valid information with rapt attention. Voldemort had visited Little Whinging. He was _still_ trying to kill the boy.

"I must stop looking at where he is held," Voldemort insisted now, red eyes gleaming, "and instead find out how to bring him to me, on my terms. Only then will he die."

Snape nodded impassively. The Dark Lord constantly brought up his plans for Potter, but he did not take kindly to others assuming they knew better on how to do it. The Dark Lord would be the one to think of the plan here, and it would not require his interjection.

"Is there any news from Hogwarts, Severus?" The Dark Lord inquired after a moment of thought.

Snape straightened in his seat. "I have two things that I need to discuss with you, my Lord," he said differentially. "Firstly, the Ministry has decided that Dumbledore is not running the school sufficiently and has placed Madame Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge in the school as the Defense professor."

Voldemort seemed to consider the news carefully, and Snape noted that he did not, in fact, know of this new development. It was both a relief for him, and a concern for whoever was supposed to be informing him of the Ministry's movements.

"She is too high up in the Ministry for it to simply be a placement," Voldemort drew out slowly. "I am interested to see what she wishes to teach, and what power Fudge will grant her. Keep an eye on the situation, Severus, but do not interfere."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape agreed.

"And the second matter, my spy?"

Snape drew a deep breath and focused his Occlumency walls to the front of his mind. "I have taken an apprentice, at Dumbledore's behest," Snape lied.

"Oh?" Voldemort's red eyes were suddenly very focused on him. "And you accepted?"

Snape forced a smirk on his face. "You will be pleased with his selection, Master," Snape drawled. "He has given me Hermione Granger, mudblood of his precious trio."

There were chitters of laughter around the table, but Voldemort remained silent but for a quirk of a smile on his lips.

"A very useful development, my spy," Voldemort praised. "Is it a standard apprenticeship contract?"

Snape grimaced forcibly. "The mudblood chit had the nerve to demand freedom in her contract. Dumbledore agreed. She feels . . . compelled to complete my commands, but nothing more." Seeing the look of displeasure on his Lord's face, he continued, "but this puts me in control of and regular contact with one of Harry Potter's closest friends. Perhaps I will even become her confidante, my Lord."

Voldemort nodded, but had a curious look on his face.

"And Dumbledore allows you to be in control of an underage girl?" he finally drew out, regarding his spy carefully.

Snape smiled. He opened his mouth to reply-

"She used a Time-Turner!" a small squeaky voice interrupted him.

Peter Pettigrew, gross as ever, was standing in the corner of the room like a bodyguard would, but the Death Eaters knew better. That was a position for a servant, and one without status. He would not sit with them until Voldemort himself invited him.

Voldemort drew his gaze from Snape, which he was instantly grateful for, to turn it on Wormtail.

"When, Wormtail?"

Wormtail couldn't believe he was being addressed, so he hopped from foot to foot. "The year I returned to you, my Lord, Dumbledore had given her a time-turner to get to all her classes," Pettigrew chattered excitedly. "She was taking too many. I saw her use it a few times."

Snape snorted. "While I'm sure everyone will love to hear your fascination with watching 14-year-old girls," he sneered dericively, "you seemed to be missing more than just your hand. ' _A few times_ '? That stupid girl used the time-turner so much she aged over 15mths more than the 9mth school year. She studied past the seventh-year level, and is being allowed to take her NEWTS this summer. She turned 17 a couple of weeks ago. The Trace is off her."

There was a murmur of confusion and excitement at the table. Voldemort looked intrigued, but said little, letting others argue and prattle in front of him. Most of it was Bellatrix, mocking Snape.

"So, you'll have a little mudblood to play with, dear Sevvie?" Bellatix cooed from the table. "No longer a student, either. Think of the fun you could have with her."

Snape forced himself not to be disgusted at her words, and just sat there impassively. "As if I would bed the little Gryffindor," Snape sneered at them. "The little know-it-all wouldn't please me. She'd just raise her hand and ask questions the whole time I'm taking her."

That was the correct response, cause the whole table laughed eagerly.

Bellatrix cackled happily. "Oh, Sevvie, you're a brute!"

"It's Severus, Bellatrix," Snape drawled. "You won't be pleased if I start calling you Bellie, now, would you?"

That earned another round of laughter, this time without Bellatrix. She sank back into her chair with a frown. Voldemort raised his head, clearly ready again to address us.

"Severus," he started with, "I am pleased with this new development. Train her, to whatever standard Dumbledore requires. He will want to see her progress, and you should not try to hinder it."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape agreed again.

"Lucius, Augustus," he turned his attention to two of his ministry officials, "why was I not informed, either of Miss Umbridge, or the Trace on Miss Granger?"

There was no acceptable answer from either of them. For the rest of the meal, the occasional crucio would attack the heap of Death Eater in the corner, pulling cries from either man. They would remain there, Snape knew, until Voldemort left the room and the house-elves could tend to them.

By the time Snape had left, his Occlumency was frigid and cold in his mind, fighting to keep his conscience well at bay before he returned to the most conscience-inducing old man he'd ever met, Albus Dumbledore.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

For a few days, Hermione didn't see Professor Snape, or anyone from the Order beside those in Grimmauld Place. Fine by her. Soon her life wouldn't be hers, and everyone would know why. She kept imagining the disappointed look on Dumbledore's face when she would tell him about her parents. She could feel the impending judgments of Sirius and Remus when they learned she'd accepted an apprenticeship from Snape. She imagined Snape sneering at her like he did as a boggart, calling her worthless every single day for years.

She had taken to locking herself in the library and revising for her NEWTS, ignoring even Ron's attempts to pry her from her sanctuary. When she got bored of regular NEWTS, she'd pull out all the texts she could find with potions recipes and simply try to memorize them.

The twins seemed to know she'd snuck out that night, but ever since Snape had indicated an Order-based punishment they wouldn't rest until they knew exactly what she did. Again, she didn't care to correct them or say anything. Any reminder of that night was painful. She'd signed away years of her life the same night she had removed herself from the lives of the two people who loved her the most. It was like a bad deal with the devil, because neither part gave her joy.

Finally, a week after she signed away her soul, the Order meeting was called. Everyone was appearing in Grimmauld for the weekend, and everyone but Hermione was eager to see what they had to say. She knew she'd be called in before long, but she sat in her place behind Fred and George, listening in the extendable ear.

"Fudge still refuses to believe Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore was heard through the ear. "I'm afraid he's positioned one of his own at Hogwarts to observe me and our young Harry."

"That toad won't be an issue, Albus," she heard Severus' deep voice come through. "The Dark Lord has assured me he did not place her at the school, at the very least. He's curious about how it develops, but he was no responsible for Dolores Umbridge.

"Besides . . . You have a more pressing matter on your table."

She froze. He was going to reveal it soon.

"Has Voldemort planned something?" Molly Weasley asked the Potions Master.

"Oh, not that I'm aware of," Hermione could almost hear him smile. "Albus, I believe I promised to inform you of everything that happened last week. It might intrigue you to know that one of your Golden Trio has been keeping secrets from you, and everyone else. And I'm more than happy to report her actions."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Ron knew about her sneaking, but she hadn't told him why. Fred and George also looked directly at her.

"So our little bookworm-"

"Has a bit of fun afterall."

"Wonder what-"

"Old Snape could-"

"Say to incriminate-"

"Little ol' you, eh?"

She bit her lip but said nothing, listening instead to the voices demanding answers from Snape downstairs.

"Enough!" Dumbledore's voice bellowed through the ear as he took control of the situation. "I'm sure Severus will explain it thoroughly, won't he?"

"Oh, I'd prefer is she did it herself," she could hear the sneer in his voice. "Miss Granger, I know you're listening with the rest of Molly's spawn. Come here."

She rose immediately, not wanting to feel what the punishment was for disobeying. She walked down the stairs without looking up. Every step took a level of will and a level of impassive obedience before she found herself facing the kitchen door. The door opened to reveal the entire Order staring at her. Her throat clenched painfully at their looks of doubt and worry. Her eyes immediately found Professor Snape, who stood from his chair before motioning to her.

"Miss Granger," he drawled in an amused voice, "sit, please."

Hermione moved forward instantly, feeling the pull on her magic towards the black-clad figure. He raised an eyebrow at her silence.

"What do you say to me, Miss Granger?" Snape's eyes glinted in amusement. "Thank me."

"Thank you, Professor Snape," Hermione said through clenched teeth as she took her seat, her humiliation nearly complete.

Severus crouched next to her chair and put his fingers under Miss Granger's chin to force his gaze into hers. Sirius and Lupin both yelled in outrage at his antics, but Dumbledore motioned them still as he observed the strange and newfound dynamic between his spy and Miss Granger. McGonagall also sat nearby, her heart in her throat as she watched her star student endure the humiliation she didn't know how to stop, let alone how it had come about.

Hermione fought the tears coming to her eyes, and Snape fought to ignore them. He didn't like watching women cry, Snape admitted. But he pushed, as he did through all his Death Eater meetings, towards his end game.

"Miss Granger, that is not the proper address for me anymore," Severus said wickedly. "Not from your lips, at least. Use my proper address from now on. That is an order."

Hermione tried to dislodge her chin but he held it fast. Professor raised an eyebrow at her, and she knew he needed to hear it.

Her heart breaking as she knew the entire house would shun her after this next phrase, she bit out, "Yes, _Master_ Snape."

Roars echoed around the table, and Lupin was on Professor Snape in a moment. Hermione's magically-bound self screamed at her to protect her Master, and she jumped up to put her wand to Remus' back as he pinned Snape to the wall.

"Let him go!" she screamed.

The roars that had taken over the entire room silenced at her own, and Remus turned away from Snape to analyze his former student. It was enough for Snape to grab at Remus' shoulder and maneuver him away before slamming the werewolf against his former place on the wall.

"She chose this, Lupin," Severus rasped at his captive. "And unless you want me to put you down, you will not interfere again."

"Alright everyone, calm yourselves," Dumbledore intoned, his wand raised at the two fighting schoolmates. "I'm sure Miss Granger and Severus have an explanation for this new, er, development. Am I to assume, Severus, from that address that Miss Granger is your apprentice?"

Professor Snape dropped Lupin back to the ground and released him. "Yes, Headmaster. Miss Granger signed the contract last week."

"Kitten, why would you do that?" Sirius Black had had his share of being ignored. He was around the table now, standing next to Hermione and looking at his crumpled best friend. He looked at the girl, who still had tears fresh in her eyes. "If he has something on you, I'm sure Dumbledore will order him to release you."

Snape barked a laugh. "I'm not releasing the girl, Black," he taunted. "No matter what anyone says. She made her deal with the devil, and I intend to make her honour it."

"Please stop," the small whimper escaped Hermione's lips as everyone listened. "I am fine with being your apprentice, _Master_. I am. Just stop trying to make me hate you for it."

Snape felt his own magic tugged as he saw her distressed look. Clearly, she was at her breaking point, and his magic was telling him to fulfill his duties as a Master and look after her. At least, that's how he justified the thawing of his Occlumency shields.

"Hear that, Snivellus?" the Animagus snarled. "She hates you, just like everyone else."

"You presume I care," the Potions Master looked at his enemy with empty eyes. "Miss Granger, if it is too much for you, I will explain the actions we took earlier this week. I can't have you out of your mind when I've just begun using you."

Hermione nodded vigorously. "Please, please don't make me relive it," she begged.

Snape nodded as if she had asked him the difference between using male and female boomslang skin.

"Albus, Miss Granger has failed to inform anyone of her new age due to her time-turner use 3rd year," Professor Snape began simply, leaning against the wall and looking at his headmaster. "She, in fact, overused it to the point where she aged over 15 months beyond her birth, physically. She turned 17, as I understand it, 3 weeks ago. Correct so far, Miss Granger?"

He looked to his apprentice who nodded.

Dumbledore turned to the young Gryffindor. "So, you've been sneaking out the past few weeks simply because you are now of age?"

Hermione looked at the man she respected and felt her tears coming forward again. "I needed to practice magic," she whispered.

"Without anyone nearby, child?" Dumbledore's twinkle had all but fled as he looked at the girl.

"Oh, she's being doing that for years, Albus," Snape drawled, bringing back the attention to himself. "From what Miss Granger admitted to me, she taught herself to apparate in-"

"Taught yourself!?" Minerva McGonagall had had enough. "Miss Granger, do you have any idea how dangerous that was!?"

"Oh, she knows, Minerva, she simply didn't care," Professor Snape continued with a glint in his eyes. "She thought she'd be able to save dear Potter's life if our resident Azkaban inmate had found him. Oh yes, everyone," he snickered at everyone's looks, "Miss Granger taught herself to apparate at night, in the Shrieking Shack, alone, with both a werewolf and a wanted criminal threatening the school. IN. HER. THIRD. YEAR."

Satisfied that no one would speak until he'd finished, he continued, "So you can imagine my surprise when, after Albus placed a tracker on Miss Granger to prevent her from sneaking out of Grimmauld Place last week, he told me she had apparated to the Burrow. I followed, of course, because Dumbledore wanted me to figure out what Miss Granger had planned."

"What?" Miss Granger demanded, looking at the Headmaster now. "You violated my privacy."

"Clearly for good reason, Miss Granger," Dumbledore noted patiently.

"Miss Granger is very adept at Transfiguration, you should know, Minerva," Snape continued as if his apprentice hadn't interrupted. "I found her practicing very advanced transformations on her photographs. She was planning on removing herself completely from the lives of her parents, and had removed herself from some photographs as practice."

Albus suddenly looked dark and angry. This was the essential information he knew Snape had withheld. "Without the Order, you were planning this severe action, Miss Granger? Did you not trust that we could protect your parents?"

"Not only planned," Severus announced. "Her parent's are already out of the country."

The room was quiet except for Hermione's tiny voice. "I knew you'd protect them, but I also knew you'd prefer to let Death Eaters find them. They work too well as lures, Headmaster. I couldn't let that happen."

Once again, completely involuntarily, Severus laughed, loud and booming. Albus turned a glare on the spy. "She would have needed a Master of Legilimency and one who had experience to do this, Severus," Albus accused.

"Indeed, and how lucky for her that you had assigned one to follow her that night," Snape bit back at the Headmaster. "Miss Granger is smart enough to know you'd use her muggle parents, Headmaster, and I didn't see the need to discourage her _correct_ assumption."

"We would never do that, Hermione!" Molly came forward and wrapped her arms around her. "Of course we'd keep them safe."

"No," Hermione's quiet declaration reverberated around the room. "I have no doubt you'd all try your best, but no one can guarantee they'd last the war. Not if they stayed, and _especially_ if they were reliant on Order protection. We have too few people for them to really be safe. Harry is a target, and so are me and Ron because of it. Eventually, my parents would be alone, or too many Death Eaters would come after them, and then I'd lose them. Worse, they'd be used to lure me to You-Know-Who."

Snape could see her lips trembling, and he knew she couldn't continue. "So, seeing as she was correct, I offered my services to assist in erasing her parents former life," the Potions Master continued. "Of course, I wasn't going to do it out of the goodness of my heart."

"Of course not," Sirius scowled at the Death Eater.

He smiled at the dog maliciously. "I need someone to take over my tasks this year while I'm running back and forth to Death Eater meetings, and seeing as Miss Granger is adequate at potions and could test out of her NEWTS anyways, I offered her an apprenticeship. More than generous on my part, but I'm nothing if not accommodating to my students."

The room looked on him or Dumbledore to try and figure out what was happening. Dumbledore finally looked towards Miss Granger, much to his relief. "Miss Granger, I have agreed to let you take your NEWTS at the ministry next month. However, in light of the apprenticeship, you will also need Occlumency lessons."

"She is already proficient, Albus," Snape smirked. "Test her right now. Her defense is more than adequate. I couldn't break it without breaking her."

Dumbledore motioned the apprentice forward, and she came to stand before her.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, "I will need you to meet my eyes. I will attempt to see into your mind, and you will attempt to defend yourself. Are you ready?"

Snape watched his apprentice proudly as she relaxed herself forcibly before looking into her Headmaster's eyes and nodding.

" _Legilimens_."

The tension was palpable in the room as everyone watched as the two battled between them. Snape watched in satisfaction as Dumbledore become more and more intense, bracing his muscles in the exertion of trying to break through her defenses.

Hermione, though, was in silent agony. Something about Dumbledore hit her harder than Snape's intrusion, and every place his metaphysical feet stepped they seemed to burn through her. She wanted nothing more than to be outside to tap into her earthly magic, but she fought through the pain and kept the snow swirling around the Headmaster.

This continued until Snape noticed his apprentice's blood start to trickle from her nose. He moved in a moment, separating them.

"Enough, Albus," he warned him. "You were about to send my apprentice into a coma. And I'd wager it wasn't because you found so many thoughts to enchant you."

Dumbledore regarded his spy sternly. "You were right about her skills, Severus. That does not mean this is a good idea."

"You're right, of course, Headmaster," Severus mocked respectful deference, "because it is the BEST idea I've had in a long time. Under me, Miss Granger will become a fierce fighter, healer, potioneer, and spy. She will be Potter's little bodyguard, and she'll be a force to reckon with when I'm through training her. The last line of defense, if you will, Albus. You can see how great a weapon she could be. She is strong, she is able, and she is already sickeningly close to Potter."

Severus let the image of that sink into the Headmaster's mind. He knew how alluring it would be for him to have Miss Granger trained to be an actual fighter, as opposed to simply a member of the Golden Trio. Dumbledore, he knew, was unable to resist the opportunity to have someone get close to Harry. That was the reason he hired Lupin, after all. Lockhart, too, not that it succeeded. The boy was always watched, so what better way than with one of his best friends?

"She's not a weapon, Snape!" Lupin interjected, interupting the exchange. "She is a child!"

"She is an adult," Severus continued to Albus, barely acknowledging Lupin. "Induct her into the Order, Albus."

Hermione looked at her Potions Master again, but in shock more than anything. She couldn't believe it. Every single student in Grimmauld Place was focused on the possibility of joining the fight and had been grumbling about nothing else. Even Hermione had wished Dumbledore would trust her, Ron, and Harry, at least, to join the meetings. Now, the man who she thought would lock her in a potion cupboard as a little house-elf was demanding the most powerful wizard in the world include her in the fight. It was almost . . . a sign of respect. Snape seemed to respect her.

That snapped another bit of Sirius's patience, though. "She is not even done with school! She's a fifth year! She hasn't even taken her OWLS!"

"She WILL take her NEWTS by the end of the summer and pass with honours," Snape bit out to the ex-convict. "She is of age, a skilled Occlumens, and she has just sent her parents away with little to no hope of getting them back in her lifetime. She has made her sacrifice and cast her lot, Albus. Induct her."

Albus regarded him severely, as if appraising him for something. Snape knew that Dumbledore didn't need to read his mind to know there was something more he wasn't telling him. He was just deciding whether to ask in front of the Order or not. Snape nodded, letting him know he would tell him the part he left out later.

With that nod, their bitter exchange ended and Dumbledore went to sit in his chair. Hermione was one of many waiting for what the Headmaster would say.

"Miss Granger," he finally said with resignation in his voice, "are you truly prepared for your NEWTS?"

"With Prof-" her lack of Snape's proper address, she couldn't speak. She felt like she was being choked slightly, with and uncomfortable weight hanging from her vocal chords. She put her hands to her throat in discomfort and rasped out breaths.

Snape strode forward in a second, understanding it first, and put his hands on either of her shoulders. "Miss Granger, I revoke my previous order. You are to address me in any way you wish."

She felt the magic fall away and beamed at him. "Thank you, Professor."

"I'm sorry for my thoughtlessness, Miss Granger," Snape grimaced at his own apology. "Now, answer the Headmaster's question."

She swallowed against the ebbing magic. "I was going to say that with Professor Snape to teach me Potions, I will be prepared."

Dumbledore nodded, but Sirius wasn't having it.

"Hold on, what was that?" he demanded. "What happened to her?"

Snape sneered towards his enemy. "Miss Granger demanded a change to the apprenticeship contract, Black," he snarled. "With the way the contract is normally, if I had ordered her to walk straight to Malfoy Manor without a wand she would have had to do it. She didn't want to be forced to obey my commands, so we decided on a punishment for disobedience instead."

"It's fine, Sirius," Hermione comforted the man.

"No, it's not!" He bellowed. "Dumbledore, you can't let him stake his claim on our Hermione like this. She's being forced into this!"

The Headmaster raised his hand to silence the man. He regarded Hermione over his spectacles. "Miss Granger, you understand that as Professor Snape's apprentice you will be privy to far more insight into the darker side of this war than almost anyone else in this room?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded in return. "And you will willingly fight for my spy's life, if needs be? Contract or not?"

Hermione looked up at Professor Snape. This question had warranted an unhappy grimace on the spy's face. She could imagine not many people would answer positively, and for some reason that saddened her. Remembering the way he waited for her patiently to say her goodbyes, and the way he had listened to her, advocated her entry into the ranks . . . she turned her attention back to Dumbledore.

"Even without the contract, I couldn't let him die," Hermione said quietly. "I will defend him as fiercely as I can."

Snape's eyes flashed to his apprentice in shock, but he quickly schooled his features. His eyes flashed back to Dumbledore, his expression daring him to deny her a place among them now.

Dumbledore nodded at the pair of them. "Severus Snape, this is the person you've selected-"

"No!" Sirius, Molly, and Minerva all shouted at once.

"-to join the Order of the Phoenix?"

Snape smirked at Black before moving Hermione to stand next to him. "I present Hermione Jean Granger to the Order of the Phoenix and attest to her dedication and bravery."

"We will see her," Dumbledore replied in well-rehearsed language. The tension shifted slightly as everyone around the table looked at Hermione. "Hermione Jean Granger, do you come here of your own free will today, to join us and put your life on the line to bring an end to war and to oppose dark magic and its followers?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes sir."

"And you hereby pledge your means, your time, and your life to this pursuit?"

"Yes sir."

"Does anyone here seek to deny her entrance to our ranks?" Dumbledore asked, immediately focusing on Sirius.

"Hell yeah I do!" He yelled. "She is under his thumb! She's being coerced into this!"

"She's too young!" Molly agreed with him.

The room once again erupted in a fight over her age, and Moody himself seemed to be arguing that she didn't know anything about combat. Tonks, an auror Metamorphmagus, seemed to be on her side as well as Arthur, defending her age and inexperience. Kingsley seemed quiet in his corner, and Dumbledore was doing nothing to quiet the onslaught.

Hermione wished she could soothe the pounding in her head, but she wanted privacy before trying to summon her magic to her again. So she stood there, listening to the angry voices that seemed to worsen the headache Dumbledore had given her, and feeling dangerously low on energy.

"It's too much of a coincidence," Kingsley finally said, drawing eyes to him. "Miss Granger sneaking out at all hours, Professor Snape endorsing her entrance into our corps . . . forgive me, Severus, but you are willingly entering He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's presence regularly. Dumbledore can't even read her mind to test her. Given the circumstances, I am wary of whether Miss Granger may have turned away from us."

"What?!" Hermione shrieked. _They can't possibly believe that._

Yet, as she looked around, it seemed that many did. Moody was definitely in agreement, clapping Kingsley on the back. Tonks, Arthur, Lupin, Minerva . . . They all offered no defense for her. Only Sirius and Molly looked outraged by the insinuation.

"Do you all really think so little of me?" she whispered to the room. She watched the guilt rise on some faces, but many of the aurors in the bunch seemed unashamed to have grouped her with the enemy.

"I don't believe it for a second, kitten," Sirius jumped to her defense, sending daggers in his glares for Lupin. "They're just reaching for reasons not to let old Snape have his way. Not that I want you involved either, but you're no Death Eater!"

"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" Molly Weasley boldly declared. "A few escapades and now she's a Death Eater, really! Nonsense, the lot of it!"

Dumbledore raised his hand to keep the tensions from rising. "As coincidental as it seems, Kingsley, Moody, the fact is that I did place a tracker on Miss Granger and I did assign her well-being to Severus. I personally can vouch for them. While wearing the tracker, Miss Granger has been two places; Grimmauld Place, and the outskirts of the Burrow. I for one am confident of her loyalties.

"Now, besides the fact that Miss Granger is Severus' apprentice," Dumbledore looked around the room, staring at everyone over his half-moon glasses, "and is only barely of age, are there any other objections?"

Everyone seemed to look at each other, willing someone to say something. When no one spoke, Dumbledore nodded.

"Then, Miss Granger, extend your wand hand."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hermione's hand felt scorched. Dumbledore's want was like a lit cigarette burning into her skin. She yanked her hand back with a yell, staring at her hand.

There, in her palm, was the glowing representation of a phoenix. Within a few seconds, it vanished.

"Miss Granger, what happened?" Dumbledore asked, stepping closer.

Now that she had been touched by that odd-looking wand, she could feel it. There was a heat coming off of it. When Dumbledore approached, Hermione felt as if she had stepped closer to a dark fire. Snape had come to stand behind her, preventing her escape. Panic bubbled for an unknown reason inside of her.

"Get that wand away from me!"

Dumbledore froze in his place, a look of terror replacing his normally concerned features.

Snape knew that look. Dumbledore had a secret, and Miss Granger had somehow stumbled onto it in some way. What it was, he had no idea, but Snape knew it scared the man. What Hermione had done had scared the greatest wizard of all time.

"Miss Granger," Albus said as calmly as he could, "let me see your hand."

Shakingly, Hermione put her hand back in Dumbledore's. He turned it over, and at the touch of his wand the phoenix reemerged. But the wand burned at her skin, making her whimper.

"This mark will give you access to many of our wards," Dumbledore said calmly. "It will not be visible to anyone, I'm sorry if it frightened you."

Hermione pulled her hand away abruptly and breathed a sigh of relief at being free of the burning. "Thank you, Headmaster."

"Alright everyone!" Dumbledore called to the room. "That's all for this meeting. I will have a private word with Severus and Miss Granger though."

Everyone shuffled out of the room, swiftly leaving the three alone. Dumbledore set protective wards and then turned to look at his new chess piece.

"Now then, welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Miss Granger," Dumbledore welcomed politely. "And of course, welcome to the staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Hermione made to refuse, but Dumbledore lifted his hand gently. "As an apprentice to our Potions Master, you are now a part of the faculty, to a limited degree. Once you have completed your NEWTS, we will assign you a living quarters near your, er, Master, and place a seat next to Severus in the Great Hall. I have no doubt you're familiar with all the school rules, including for the teachers?" He asked, looking over his half-moon glasses with mirth.

Hermione nodded with a reluctant smile. "Since first year, Headmaster."

"Of course," Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, as is customary, I'll have a the newest edition of _Hogwarts: A History_ waiting for you in your chambers just in case. And, of course, once school starts you will have the authourity to assign detentions and remove points."

Hermione smiled a little goofily, then looked at her Potions Master. "Do I have to hate Gryffindor too?" She inquired sarcastically.

Snape rolled his eyes at the young witch. "No, I'll keep that pleasure for myself," he allowed. "However, I do have appearances to keep up with the Death Eater children in Slytherin, Miss Granger. Take points if you must, but if they require a detention it will not be given by you. They must believe I've ordered you to favour them."

Hermione's nose wrinkled in disgust. "That's just so . . . wrong. I'll have to play favourites? Give points to Malfoy?"

Snape frowned at her. "Especially Malfoy, Miss Granger. He's my godson, if you didn't know, and his father's house is one of the homes the Dark Lord is staying at. If any rebellion on your part gets back to the Dark Lord, I may be punished severely. I assume you don't want to be the one treating me after I've gone through a few rounds of torture?"

Hermione shook her head.

Snape sneered. "Thought not. Then you will behave, and no matter what they say to you or what they do you will keep a cool head. Again, take points and be normal, but I cannot allow you to assign detentions to them. If there's a serious issue, you bring it to me."

"I've got it, Professor," Hermione stopped him. "I will play nice."

"Excellent!" Dumbledore clapped his hands eagerly. "Now, just a few more matters. As an apprentice, you usually do not make any money, and it is your Master's job to keep you clothed and fed and such."

Severus Snape nodded at the Headmaster. "I will do so."

"Oh no, dear boy," Dumbledore exclaimed. "You misunderstand. You've never had an apprentice, and especially not at Hogwarts. We haven't had people apprentice very often, you know," he said to Hermione, "what with the few Masters we have at the school. And because, for some reason, Flitwick refuses to apprentice anyone taller a than him and Minerva refuses to apprentice anyone who doesn't meet her very exacting standards. As an apprentice at Hogwarts, you will also be taking on responsibilities like patrolling, Hogsmeade weekends, and a few other odds and ends. Because of this, Hogwarts does give residing apprentices a small salary."

"Oh!" Hermione flushed. "You don't need to-"

"I insist, my dear," Dumbledore flashed a toothy grin. "It's no waste, there's always a little money set aside for such cases. Apprentices at Hogwarts tend to teach classes and take on the responsibilities of regular staff, and I insist they be justly rewarded for the extra effort. Would a salary of 1000 Galleons a month suffice?"

Hermione eyes bugged out of her head, and she nodded fiercely.

Dumbledore gleamed at the young girl. "Excellent. I'll present that the Board at our meeting. I'm sure they'll insist upon giving you the first 1000 in advance, as well."

"You mean you'll insist they do," Snape pointed out.

"Didn't I say that?" Dumbledore reverted back to his kooky grandfather façade. "I'm sure they just want to use the Galleons to make sure their professors are well-dressed for the school year. Miss Granger, you'll want to decide on the persona you want to portray to your classmates. Since you are the same age as many seventh years, I would suggest something to make you look a little older. Maybe your own pointy hat like Minerva? I do have a wonderful tailor-"

"Headmaster, is there anything else?" Snape ground out.

The Headmaster dared to twinkle at Snape. "Very well, Severus, I'm sure you have much to talk about. Oh, and Miss Granger, I do expect you to take your NEWTS promptly. I'm sure you'll do better than you believe."

That brought a genuinely warm smile from Hermione. "Of course, Headmaster."

And with a poof and a screech, the headmaster was gone.

"If you start dressing like the Headmaster, I swear I'll throttle you," Snape growled, only managing to elicit a small chuckle from the Gryffindor.

"I thought he'd be more upset," Hermione commented.

"He was," Snape told her. "He hides it well, but I will be bearing the brunt of his anger the next time we are alone."

"But you just helped me!" Hermione protested. "You didn't come up with it!"

Snape looked directly at his apprentice. "And he views that as worse than actually having thought of it. He still views you as a little Gryffindor, Miss Granger. To him, you can do no wrong. Anything that happened in that meeting is a direct result of me manipulating your trusting mind, according to him at least."

Memories of her boggart danced in Hermione's mind, and she quickly squashed it. She could not be justifying her fears; they were fake. She could trust Professor Snape. She could trust Professor Snape. She WOULD trust Professor Snape …

"Now, I expect your friend will want to interrogate you," Snape guessed. "I will leave you to their mercy for now, but I will return as often as I am able and start to teach you seventh year potions. I assume you'll be able to have them all properly learnt within a few sessions, so after that I will be teaching you some of the complex potions you will be required to brew in my absence this year."

"Really?" Hermione jumped excitedly. "Which potions?"

Severus smirked. "Well, we'll start with one that provides and incentive for excellence," Snape purred down at her. "Once we finish with the seventh-year potions, you will make Lupin's Wolfsbane."

"What?" Hermione demanded. "What if I get it wrong?"

Snape's smirk grew infinitesimally. "Then he goes the month without his potion. I trust you will work hard to ensure that it doesn't happen."

He watched with mirth as an angry blush took over her features. It was too easy to rile up this Gryffindor. He saw her restrain herself from talking back to him, her lips pressed together and her fists balled up to keep them from lashing out.

"Any questions, Miss Granger?" Snape asked pleasantly.

"No, sir."

"Unfortunately for you, I have one before I dismiss you," Snape asserted. "Why did you react so strongly to being marked?"

Hermione whimpered at the memory of the flames on her skin, and in hindsight, in her mind. This prompted Professor Snape's infamous raised eyebrow, a look that would have had any Ravenclaw checking their work for errors. She swallowed the whimper in her throat.

"Well, Miss Granger?" Snape pressed.

Hermione looked away. "It burned, Professor. I could feel Dumbledore's wand, and even when he was holding it away from me I could feel the fire coming from it. It feels . . . dark. Wrong."

When Snape's expression didn't shift, Hermione backtracked quickly. "Of course, wands aren't good or bad, I know Professor, I know. And Headmaster Dumbledore wouldn't have something like . . . well, like whatever caused what I felt. I don't even know _what_ I felt, or even wh-"

"Enough," Snape interrupted. Hermione noticed that his eyes no longer looked empty, but instead sparked with some form of enthusiasm. "Whatever that was, you are not to speak of it with anyone. I will look into your magical situation, Miss Granger, but for now I want you focused on your NEWTS. If you can, try to put this out of your mind and onto your studies, though I doubt you'll find it particularly difficult."

Hermione blushed but said nothing.

Snape nodded in approval. "Good girl," he purred. "No go on. I'm sure Mr. Weasley the Youngest is red in the face by now."

With a grimace, Hermione mentally braced herself for the onslaught as she turned towards the door. When she met the door, she hesitated. She normally would have been fine leaving Snape's presence without another word, but the gratitude for her new position was on her tongue and would choke her with regret. She vaguely wondered if anyone had ever thanked Professor Snape for anything before. Would he be angry? Would he mock her for being sentimental, saying he didn't mean to praise her to Dumbledore? Would he believe her to be a silly little girl for being grateful for his help, his praise, his promised tutelage that she now found herself excited for? She was grateful for the opportunity to take her NEWTS, she agreed, and now she was grateful to be his apprentice. To teach, to learn, and to stay at Hogwarts, even earn a salary . . . it was all thanks to the dour potions master behind her.

"Does the door present an unforeseen challenge, Miss Granger?" Snape mocked from behind her.

Miss Granger would have normally raised her hackles at that remark, yet Snape watched as she turned back to look up at him with a timid smile on her features, once again looking vulnerable. A throb in his chest threatened to take over, and he schooled his features. The girl would only be hurt to know she inspired pity in her emotionless Professor, and he would not hurt her further.

"Before I go," Miss Granger said quietly, but with some regained confidence, "I wanted to thank you."

Snape grimaced. He definitely didn't expect that. "What for, Miss Granger?"

"For convincing them I can do this," she told him. "After the beginning, after you had made your point and flaunted me, you actually showed me respect. More than that, you showed me this could be OK. I will be glad to be your apprentice."

Snape observed this little gi-woman. She was a woman now. She was approaching him timidly, but gone was the vulnerability of her emotions. She was more worried about how he would receive her words, he realized with a titch of amusement. This was the demeanor her was not used to, the one he imagined was reserved for House-Elves or her familiar.

"You won't be glad after I have you dissecting scarab carapaces for lessons," Snape admonished her.

He could see the laugh she was hiding tickle at the corner of her mouth. "I expect nothing less," she agreed, her smile brightening. "But I never expected to be allowed this chance to prove myself. You advocated for me to join the Order, Professor, and you gave me this apprenticeship. Even if it was self-motivated," she playfully cocked her head, "I know you never would have taken me on if you didn't think I could be a competent Potions Mistress one day. This is the highest compliment you could have paid me, and I'm extremely aware of that. Thank you, _Master_ Snape."

Hermione watched as Snape showed her a little bit of how human he was. He face didn't move a muscle in indication of his understanding, but she could see a bit of something soft in his eyes and she knew he wasn't used to hearing those words, at least not sincerely. Even more human was the way he tried to avoid showing her the kind side she had just seen by straightening his robes and presenting her with a sneer.

"You'd better get used to that address, Miss Granger," Snape pointed out. "I will be Master Snape to you in every address once you return to Hogwarts. It would not do for you to be insubordinate in front of the students, especially not those few who have Death Eaters in their homes."

Hermione nodded in understanding, and turned back towards the door.

Snape was no longer feeling pity for the woman he had forced into apprenticeship, but a strange sort of comradery. There were few people who would speak to him with that level of respect. He felt inclined to show the same in return.

"Miss Granger?"

She spun to face him. "Yes, sir?"

He offered what he hoped was a non-threatening smirk. "You might like to know that you are correct," he admitted. "I would not have picked a mediocre student for my apprentice. Nor would I have endorsed just any apprentice's entry into the Order."

The smile that exploded from Miss Granger could've blinded a room. Snape nearly reeled back in shock that such meagre praise was enough for _that_ to be her reaction.

"Thank you, Professor!"

She bounded from the room and away from the confused Potions Professor.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

Hermione climbed the stairs to her room tiredly. Remus, Sirius, Tonks, Arthur and Molly had obviously waited for her in the hall to ambush her, and she had only just gotten away. After listening to Sirius go on about how he would break Snape's jaw if he even looked at Hermione the wrong way, Lupin jumped on the bandwagon and promised to help her if she needed it. Tonks was excited and genuinely encouraging, surprisingly, offering advice to the only member of the Order who was younger than her. Hermione was more than happy to accept her help in Defense.

Molly had tried to give her comfort, bringing up her parents tactlessly and loudly, and Hermione had flushed in humiliated anger. No one understood - "I understand dear," Molly had insisted - and she just wanted to be allowed to make this sacrifice in private. Now she had to reassure the Weasley matriarch that she was fine, promise to eat regularly, and then fake a yawn to avoid being ushered into the kitchen. She had wished she could just be rude, just swish her robes like Snape and mutter something like 'dim-witted, mothering calamity'. That thought made her chuckle under her breath, even if it was immediately followed by regret for thinking of insulting the kind Weasley matriarch.

Walking towards Ron's room, she wondered what she was going to say to explain it. He had known about the time-turner she had used, but the Twins and Ginny didn't. That would need to be explained if Ron hadn't been forced to tell them about it by now. The bigger problem was that she had gone off on her own, did something drastic to her own life, and hadn't told him. Worse, Snape knew before her best friends. Ron would be furious with her and view it as betrayal. And once Harry found out, whenever they could tell him, he would be just as mad. How was she going to fix this?

Apparently she had frozen in front of Ron's door, just staring at it as she tried to think through everything.

*POP*

Hermione just about jumped out of her skin, but before she could turn around and smack one or both ginger demons she was grabbed and felt the distinctive pull on her navel from a side-along apparition. A moment of disorienting twirling and flipping and Hermione found herself in the basement of Grimmauld place.

"Alright, Granger," one of the twins grinned before shoving her into a chair right behind her. "We need to have-"

"A bit of a discussion."

"You see-"

"You know more about our operations-"

"Than anyone, besides Lee."

The were more than serious as they looked down at her.

"What Forge is saying," Fred said while towering over her, "is that we have a certain understanding with our teachers."

"Gred and I don't make trouble during classes-"

"And they don't bust our asses for pranks."

George raised his right hand solemnly, "As long as no one gets hurt."

"Right-o, Forge."

Hermione looked in between the two troublemakers with a grin. "So," she purred, "you're afraid of Apprentice Granger."

They nodded at her and each other, in that order and completely in unison.

She looked at Fred, then at George, and promptly started laughing.

"Hey!" Fred shouted indignantly.

"The one time we're not trying to make you laugh, Granger."

"We're serious!"

"You know more than every other teacher-"

"And we need to keep up our business-"

"So we can make a go of it for real next year."

Hermione calmed down a little, still chuckling as she wiped a tear from her eyes. "Sorry guys, but you have no idea how much I needed that."

She sat herself up properly on the seat again, now smiling widely at the two pranksters. It was true, they had let her sit in on potion brewing sessions, even explaining a few charms to her. She'd even offered some advice of her own and devised a bunch of their charms. She knew more about their porducts than many professors would, and so would be in the enviable position to stop them if ever she came across them.

But . . . she secretly loved Fred and George's pranks. She berated them constantly for being too risky with their product testing, but she had yet to see them really hurt themselves.

She sighed.

"Alright, I won't interfere with it." They turned to high five each other. "But I will be in a potions classroom for most of the year, and I have seen your Skiving Snackbox recipes. A student vomits or has a nosebleed in my class that your product induced, I will be administering the antidote and they'll get detention."

Both twins fell back with their hands over their hearts. "You wound us!"

"You wouldn't ruin the fun for the kiddies, would you?"

They both flashed her their infamous synchronized puppy dog pouts and she groaned, giving in.

"Fine!" Hermione conceded. "I won't be giving detentions."

"Yess!"

"Alright!"

Hermione giggled at the excited bundles of ginger energy. "And I promise not to brew any antidotes where Professor Snape will see. I'm still forcing all of the first years to be responsible, though."

She could have counted on one hand the number of times any of the Weasleys besides Ron and Mrs. Weasley had actually hugged her, but she now found herself enveloped in a hug she wasn't sure about counting it as one or two. The ginger menaces had swept Hermione off the chair and pulled her in between them for a warm, comforting, and entirely too bone-crushing hug while she was still inches off the floor. Allowing herself a moment, she wrapped her arms around the twin she was facing – Fred, she hoped – and let herself have a moment of comfort.

"Hey!" George whined. "Why does he get all the love?"

Beating Fred to the punch she turned her head to sneak a grin. "Well, he is the better looking twin."

"Ooh, the firecracker emerges!" Fred guffawed loudly.

What ensued was the worst tickle fight Hermione had ever had the pleasure of being in, which had the twins alternating between tickling her and being her targets, which meant she had no reprieve no matter how relentlessly she assaulted them. By the end, she was in full on stitches, crying in the euphoric pain and muscle tension, and in such a mood that every movement the twins took had her cry-laughing all over again. God, she loved the Weasleys.

After finally catching her breath, she was lifted to her unsteady legs by a happy-looking Fred. "That's our firecracker," he patted her head fondly. "Feeling better?"

"Loads," she admitted with a grin. "You two have a superpower."

George and he puffed up with fake pride. "Anything for a lady fair," George mockingly bowed.

Fred elbowed his twin in the ribs. "So, anything you need to run by us before be take you back to your room to be verbally assaulted by our little brother?"

Hermione looked sheepish. "Any way you guys can knock me out?"

"No can do, firecracker," Fred winked at her. "Besides, consider it payback."

"For what?" Hermione demanded.

George waggled his finger at her. "We've been begging them to induct us into the Order since the day we turned seventeen, Granger."

"Yeah!" Fred placed a hand on George's shoulder in mock comfort. "You beat us into the Order, and you're apparently our age!"

"Oops?" Hermione tried. At their still accusing gazes, and then gave them an innocent smile. "I'm sorry?"

They shared a look. "It's a start."

"Now get back to our idiot brother."

 _Now I know I'm in the clear,_ she thought to herself. Hermione saluted to the pair before turning on her heel and apparating back up to the girls' room on the third floor before they could make a go for her.

She had expected to find Ginny there, but instead she found Ron, sitting on her bed. He jumped impulsively at her popping into existence next to him, but the shock quickly turned to the familiar look of anger. She thought she'd be able to handle seeing that look on his face, but maybe the day had been more emotionally draining than she'd thought. Just seeing someone look at her with that betrayal pricked the feelings of humiliation she'd first felt going into that meeting, and tears pricked at her eyes.

Ron moved to open his mouth, but Hermione rushed to interrupt.

"Ron, please," she begged a little, "I know you feel betrayed, but can we skip the fight and go to the part where you hug me and tell me that I'm still your friend?"

It took a half second, but like a true friend he opened his arms and she slid into them and held him tightly, hoping the comfort would be enough to keep the tears away. Instead she muffled her sniffles in his shirt as they started turning into sobs.

"I'm still mad," Ron murmured.

"I know."

This was her friendship with Ron. They may fight, but we knew each other so well that it was impossible for them not to care about each other. Just like her friendship with Harry, she could never stay mad aat Ron and nor he at her.

"I'm sorry you had to do that to your parents," Ron whispered to her. "I'm sorry you didn't feel you could ask me for help. I'm sorry you got stuck with _Snape_."

" _Professor_ Snape," she corrected automatically, but buried her head further into his shoulder in mortification when he guffawed. "Shut up."

Silence.

"Why didn't you tell me? I know I'm not the friend you usually tell stuff to-"

"I tell you just as much as Harry!" Hermione protested.

Ron shook his head so she could feel it in her hair. "Not about problems you're having," he explained. "Not about any of the many things you cry over. But I get it; he grew up in the same world as you, and he grew up in trouble, so I get he's good at understanding stuff like this. I wouldn't have done that to my parents. Harry . . . might have understood that better, after losing his own."

Hermione mentally agreed, but said nothing.

"But that doesn't mean I can't be that friend for you, 'Mione," Ron pushed on. "You should've talked to me."

"Yeah."

Ron sighed. "I know there's no wrong here, but I keep feeling Harry should be here. It fees, I dunno, like he's being left out on purpose."

"It feels wrong to me too," Hermione admitted. "Normally I'd switch my hugging between you two so it wouldn't get awkward."

Ron laughed and pinched at her sides, making her yelp in surprise. But Hermione's tears were gone now, and so they separated from the hug and simply laid on the relatively large, recently made decent pureblood bed together, looking at the ceiling. Thinking it was a waste, Hermione decided to test her newfound wandless magic abilities.

Waving her hand in the wand movement needed, she whispered, " _Stella revelo_."

She paid attention this time as the magic at her core pulled towards the ceiling, lighting it with a crystal clear night sky. It was a simple spell that would only last about 20 minutes, if it wasn't different wandless, but it was worth having learnt for the view it gave. The spell had brought attention to the magic in her core, and she could feel it pushing against the underside of her skin. It pulsed as if alive and rushed around inside her in a fainter version of what happened whenever she stood on the unobstructed earth.

"Blimey, 'Mione, how long have you been able to do wandless magic?" Ron looked at her in awe.

She shrugged, trying to ignore how giddy the act had made her feel. "I guess since I turned unofficially 17. I haven't tried it before now."

Ron mumbled something under his breath about being a show off and Hermione nudged him in the side.

"Menace, you are," Ron shot at her, but a guilty look passed his face. "You know, I'm sure if we made his life hell enough-"

Hermione stopped him. "I really don't mind being Professor Snape's apprentice, Ron. He really, really helped me with what he did for my parents. And I know he says it was just to get me to agree to be his apprentice, but he didn't have to give me the chance to join the Order, or take my NEWTS right away instead of later. He's being . . . _kind_ , I think."

Ron snorted a laugh. "Kind, right."

"Yes, right, Ronald," Hermione remanded him sternly. "He's being more than decent to me."

"I bet you're just saying that because you get access to the teacher's section of the library," Ron teased her. "Merlin, you're probably excited by the fact that even finished with school, you'll be at school."

And that was how Hermione knew everything was alright, at least until Harry came. They just lay reclined on the bed, looking at her mini-enchantment, until they both fell asleep.

* * *

 **AN: Hey readers! I don't really do authour's notes so don't get used to it, but I wanted to address an update schedule. I'm going to be using this little story of mine as an exercise in my creative writing, so I'm planning on setting aside time every day to attack it. While that doesn't mean I'll be updating every day, I do tend to post it the second I'm finished the chapter. I don't even write a chapter ahead, it's all very pathetic that way. So, most likely it'll be every other day or so. Sorry for the uncertainty, but you'll just have to subscribe and wait me out! Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and criticism is welcome!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

The week progressed unsteadily forward. The Weasleys were fine with her arrangement with Professor Snape after she defended it to them, so dinners became fairly pleasant affairs again, but Sirius couldn't let up on berating her Master. After a few arguments and a good Thumper impression, they finally agreed not to speak about it.

Tensions diffusing among the house-mates did not diffuse it within Hermione, however, as she finally seemed to undergo the shift to prepare for her NEWTS. She locked herself in the library and took over the coffee table in her favourite corner of the room to spread out her notes. As organized as she was, Hermione still couldn't focus. She'd look up an answer to one question, then find herself studying how to become an Animagus. She'd tried to study for Defense first, acknowledging her own weakness in offensive charms, but found herself studying various healing magics.

Her tension was running at an all time high because of her perceived lack of focus, and she found herself biting her nails again for the first time since she'd been recovering from her time-turner use. Every three hours Ron popped in the deposit some snack on her table and asking if she wanted to do something with him and the other Weasleys. He didn't stop asking after the first verbal beheading, so Hermione was losing her patience with his interruptions more by the day. (She'd never admit that the food he kept dropping off was really helping her.)

So when the knock came at the library door that day, she snapped out a vicious, "Not now, Ronald!"

The door opened quickly and a menacing Snape entered the library. His took in her cross-legged position on the loveseat, the notes strewn in all the places she could reach around her, the wild look in her eyes, and proceeded to smirk.

"You mistook the knock as a request for permission, Miss Granger," Snape sneered at her. "I was merely ensuring that you didn't, - how did Weasley put it? – 'hex me faster than a horklump breeds'. Not that it wouldn't be entertaining to see you try."

"Professor, I'm so sorry," Hermione apologized. "I was just revising the applications of Gamp's Laws of Transformation as they apply to living subjects, and-"

"Enough." She shut her mouth firmly. "I came here today to assist you in your revisions, but I'm clearly not going to be of any help while you're in this state."

"But sir!" Hermione exclaimed. "I still haven't brewed-"

"Enough, Miss Granger," Professor Snape repeated, glaring her down. With Hermione now sufficiently silent, he continued, "Follow me, please."

Hermione fumbled to collect the notes that surrounded her, scrambling to collect them all in some semblance of order before running after the retreating form of Snape. She had to hop along behind him in order to keep up with his lengthy stride and he didn't slow his step by any margin. In fact, Hermione could have sworn his steps sped up every now and again.

If she'd have asked Professor Snape, he would have denied it vehemently. However, since she couldn't see his face, Severus let a small smirk onto his features whenever he heard her hopping to keep up behind him. He led her to the training room and proceeded to remove his outer robes.

Hermione felt a little uncomfortable, standing there while her Professor removed his outer layers. But she found he looked a whole lot younger without his high collar, his flapping cape-like robes and the concealing black. Instead, she found herself looking at Snape in a white button up that he had begun to roll up so the sleeves only reached his elbows. Hermione saw his Dark Mark briefly, unable to see the details.

"I refuse to teach you Potions while you're thus agitated," Snape explained to her, finishing up with one arm and moving to the other. "So, in the interest of you not wasting my time, we will be testing your knowledge for your practical in defense. Of course, there are two parts to a NEWTS Defense Practical: they'll have you identify from a variety of objects which of them have some form of curse, and then you will be dueling with an experienced fighter, usually an auror. In your case, you will be practicing with a Death Eater."

He seemed to regard her steadily for a moment, and Hermione realized he probably expected her to flinch at his comment. When she just continued to regard him, he continued. "I will do my best to make this fight a realistic examination, but I am a much tougher opponent. Just remember, they are looking for you to prove you know and can use a variety of defensive and offensive spells. Your goal is to survive, Miss Granger."

Hermione took out her vinewood wand and leveled it at her professor. "Yes, sir."

Before she could blink she was thrown across the training room with her room clattering on the ground where she had been previously, too far away to grab.

Snape's wand was trained on her, his face blank and his posture straight and rigid. "Clearly, you were not prepared," Snape pointed out. "However, now you're in this mess and you will have to fight to be on equal footing with me once again."

Hermione struggled to her feet and was instantly flung back to the ground by Snape's magic. It knocked the breath out of her for a moment.

"THINK, Miss Granger!" Snape barked at her. "When you're down, what can you do to gain the upper hand? You have no wand either, because you were too agitated to even grip it properly. What do you need?"

Her breath was coming back, now in gasps. She focused on the simple task he'd given her. What did she need to do to get back on equal footing? She could feel her heart beating, pulsing in her ears. Pulsing . . . pulse! Her wandless magic!

She extended her hand towards her wand, and instantly felt the pull from her magic to get it back. Her wand flew to her in a second.

"Yes, that will impress the examiners," Snape assured her. "Wandless magic often takes years of discipline, and if you can use it in combat they will almost assuredly give you additional points."

Hermione fired a stunner at him and tried to scramble to her feet. He blocked easily and sent her tumbling to the ground once again.

"You're still on the ground, Miss Granger," Snape pointed out. "Get up."

She glared. "Will you let me?"

Snape smirked, the crinkle bringing light to his eyes as they regarded her. "Do you need me to? Or can you manage?"

Hermione gritted her teeth, trying to fight against the indignation. She sent three jinxes in a row in Snape's direction and tried to get up even quicker. Again, jinxes blocked and Hermione on her back, Snape sneered at her.

"You're not using your brain, Miss Granger!" Snape barked. "THINK! You're leaving yourself open to retaliation!"

Hermione focused. He was right about before; she had been unfocused because of her agitation. The simple shield charm that would keep her safe had never occurred to her, and all she had to do was make sure to conjure it right after her curse.

Hermione thought of a couple of distracting curses, she decided against them and launched a _confringo_ at Professor Snape. Snape shielded the fireball and immediately sent out a _flipendo_ which hit her _protego_ squarely, letting her remain standing.

"Finally," Snape feigned annoyance. "For a class called ' _Defense_ ' you would believe it is entirely about offensive spells from your performance."

From this point, Hermione remembered to actually defend herself. She ended up with scrapes and the occasionally embarrassing hex, but she did well enough for Professor Snape to indicate she had passed that examination.

Snape helped her through a mock Transfiguration and Charms exam, though he kept telling her he was barely qualified for it. Finally, after using up some of her pent-up magical energy and proving to herself she could do the exams she was now a little bit more relaxed.

"For some reason, Miss Granger, you feel the need for validation of your efforts," Professor Snape told her at one point during the Transfiguration exam. "The reason we are doing these examinations is to show you that even someone like me would pass you. You are a fine student, and so it will translate to your exams. I have every confidence in that. _As should you_."

That comment stuck with her. Yes, she decided, she needed validation. It was a realistic need. How would you know if you were learning fast or slow if people didn't praise you, didn't critique you? Someone who had learned it before, or a teacher who had witnessed countless others learn it, they could easily provide that validation.

But from Professor Snape, it sounded like a weakness.

By the time they'd finished testing her, Hermione was feeling better than she had all day. Her magic felt in control, her body felt awake and alive, and Professor Snape had made her feel completely free from the judgements of others. He always did that in class, she realized. He made his opinions the be all end all. In class, his criticism cut like a knife. Here, his praise made her feel alive. Not only that, but Professor Snape seemed to humanize himself with every bit of praise. When he complimented her, his next biting comment seemed to sting even less than before.

By the end, Hermione had once again landed on her back forcefully under Professor Snape's superior wandwork. This time, however, he came to hover over her prone form.

"Sufficient, Miss Granger," Snape said above her. "Are you feeling more stable?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, her face colouring in embarrassment. Snape offered him a hand up, and Hermione took it happily. "Thank you."

Snape's eyes held amusement. "You may wish to remember this lesson in self-discipline, Miss Granger. It's not always about pushing yourself beyond what you are able, but about knowing what you need and doing it. I do not wish to see you so overwrought again.

"Now," Snape moved on, sheathing his wand, "while Black has a serviceable workspace for the brewing of healing potions and salves, to access the ingredients necessary to practice your seventh-year potions we will be flooing to Hogwarts for your lessons. I will unfortunately be required to bring you through every time, as the floo is keyed only to the Headmaster, Deputy Headmistress, and myself."

Hermione nodded. "Alright. Do I need anything?"

"It is my duty to provide everything for my apprentice, Miss Granger," Snape drawled. "Now follow."

They trotted from the room, and Hermione felt happy enough to bounce along at his side. Snape just rolled his eyes but refused to break her spirit after working to raise it. He strode along in front of the girl, doing his best to ignore the way her bounces elicited that same emotional response that her tears had.

"What will be my duties as your apprentice once school starts up?" Hermione asked, curious now.

Snape allowed her inquisitiveness. "You will be teaching the first years, and once I deem you a decent enough instructor you will also take over the second-year classes. Besides that, you will be working with Madame Pomphrey to keep the hospital wing supplied with the necessary potions, brewing Lupin's Wolfsbane, and in some cases various external orders I receive for specific potions. This is on top of your duties assigned by the Headmaster, so do not expect ease and time on your hands. If I do not think you have enough to do I will have you working on preparing ingredients while sitting in on my classes, so I would not get your hopes up about having an easier time than your friends."

"And when will you be teaching me to be a weapon?"

Snape took some floo powder into his hand. "I already started, Miss Granger. Professor Snape's Office!"

He ushered her through the green flames and rudely pushed Miss Granger through the soot into what she assumed was Professor Snape's inner sanctum. Unlike his classroom, this room seemed mostly comfortable. It didn't have the massive containers of ingredients lining the walls, nor was the stone of the castle entirely visible. The walls held bookshelves upon bookshelves, nearly obscuring the stone walls. Snape looked to his apprentice, expecting her to begin drooling over his collection. He nearly chuckled when she unconsciously gravitated closer to the nearest shelf, looking at the titles.

"I will allow you to borrow a select few books, Miss Granger," Snape started her out of her reveille, "but we must begin your further instruction."

He brought her over to the door directly behind his desk, and waved his wand over the warded barrier. He then extended a hand towards the hesitant girl. "Your wand, Miss Granger."

She nodded and handed him her wand. Snape was . . . surprised, he would say, although he had lost the ability to be shocked a while back. Her wand seemed to sink into his palm in a comforting hum, the core responding to his touch pleasantly.

"What is your core?" he asked casually.

"Dragon heartstring, sir," Hermione replied. "I asked Ollivander once, which heartstrings he uses. Apparently, he uses so many, he rarely specifies to his suppliers because he can use nearly any dragon. He told me mine was from a female Antipodean Opaleye that got a little too vicious defending one of her babies. They put her down after she refused to back down."

"Ah, a vicious Opaleye," Snape pondered. "It's rare that they become so violent; they are the most docile of species. Perhaps that is what drew the wand to you, Miss Granger. I've heard that Minerva's innocent Gryffindor know-it-all has a vicious temper."

Hermione blushed under his raised eyebrow. Snape turned from her and placed the wand up to the door and cast a little charm. It responded wonderfully to him, and he regretfully gave it back to Miss Granger when he finished his task.

"The door is now keyed to your wand," Snape told her. "You are fortunate, as I do not allow anyone save myself or Poppy to enter here. This is my private workroom."

Snape pushed open the workroom and with a loud band he revealed the well-lit and recessed chamber. Hermione's breath caught. It was so . . . perfect. The back wall had cauldrons hanging neatly, organized by size and material. There was even a solid gold cauldron to the furthest corner (Hermione remembered that that was specifically used for the brewing of either Felix Felicitus or a healing potion called the Medicor Draught). He had an enclosed marble cauldron cleaning area, and a sink sunken into a pristine line of green marble counters that surrounded the room. The walls that didn't hold cauldrons were covered in cabinets that probably held his private stores. The brewing area was obviously the center of the room, and she looked up to see the ceiling curve into a tunnel that would obviously expel the fumes from brewing. The room was fairly large, and Hermione was certain that she would be undisturbed here whenever she was allowed.

"This is where you will practice your brewing for your exams," Severus explained, stepping into the room. "Once the year begins, you will likely use this area or the one in the hospital wing to brew the necessary elixirs for your apprenticeship. I expect everything to be returned to its pristine state after your use, and you will provide me with a list of what components you used so I can keep an accurate store.

"For today, you will be brewing a Wiggenweld potion," Snape ordered. "Which has which benefits?"

"Reverses the effects of the Draught of Living Death, and works as a standard healing potion," Hermione recites. "It does so by restoring function to the various organs of the body, and as such can be especially dangerous if used for patients who are bleeding, seizing, or in the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse. Once they have been treated for those, the potion can be administered safely."

"And for brewing, what cauldron would you use?" Snape asked.

"Any cauldron, but obviously the better potions come from better supplies, like the cast iron cauldron that has the benefits of fairly even heating," Hermione replied. "Pewter is probably what I'll be tested with though, right sir?"

"Yes, that is what will be provided for your exams," Snape dismissed, "but I will be providing the potion you brew today to Poppy. As such, use the large copper cauldron."

Hermione smirked at him. "You trust my potions in the Hospital Wing, sir?"

Snape gave an undignified snort. "I will be here to observe, Miss Granger, so don't feel too self-important."

"And what will you be brewing while you observe?" Hermione demanded. "So I can observe a _Master_."

It was Snape's smirk turned foul. "Dumbledore has requested that I brew some additional stores of Veritaserum, both for the school and for the Ministry. As it can be lethal when not brewed correctly, he has solicited his on-call Potions Master to the task."

Hermione observed him a little further as she moved to prepare her workspace. She set up her cauldron by one of the four fire pits, and started to gather ingredients for her potions. All the while, Snape moved methodically and quickly around her. Her question seemed to have touched a sore spot in his mind, and she watched as he started to sink into the melancholy she knew him for in classes.

Unsure how to snap him out of it, she started asking questions. She asked about the ingredients she'd be doubling and how it would affect the potion. Certain ingredients would be too potent if added in greater quantities, so would she take longer to add them and risk a reaction? She never asked about what he was brewing, but she pestered him about the different metals for stirring rods and whether she should use a copper one to avoid a cross-contamination.

At first he snapped at her question, but with each one he seemed to become a little more patient and more like the Professor she knew. Finally, asking about a different seventh year potion, Professor Snape seemed to have a brilliant idea, because a smile formed on his face.

"Miss Granger, I have something for you," he said while walking away brusquely. He didn't return for a few moments, but when he did he had two tattered old potions books in his hands. "These were my potions books back when I was a student. I want you to take these with you and study them. I have written in these many changes to the original recipes, and I want you to come back here with a guess on each potion as to why the changes I proposed worked and reduced resources used on the potion."

He placed them on the workbench next to her, and proceeded to open the seventh-year book to the Wiggenweld potion she was brewing.

"Why did I cross out the 10 lionfish spines and put 4 ½ crushed spines instead?" Snape demanded.

Hermione's brain was drawing a blank.

"Think on it while you brew the potion as per the instructions here," Snape demanded. "You will not enjoy the consequences of failing to produce an adequate answer."

Hermione nearly jumped on the book once Professor Snape relinquished his grip on it. There were so many instructions he had crossed out on this particular potion, replacing the number of stirs, ingredients, and hours of maturation. She started on the base for the potion, pulling out the horklump juice, salamander blood, and various other ingredients from the cupboards.

She thought about the spines as she read through the process. The salamander blood being added only twice through the process as opposed to 5 times in the process made sense, because it limited the risk of oversaturation. Snape had made it unstable though, but cutting out the extra stabilizing element so he had dropped the wait period after the addition of the Flobberworm mucus by 2/3 and had then proceeded as directed for a time.

As the wait time for the potion came, she turned to the text and started to look at some of the other potions for clues. It was odd, leaving the fangs whole but crushing the spines and decreasing the amount. But the pattern persisted throughout the book, that the first whole ingredient be added as such, but the second be crushed into a powder. Every time after the crushed material was added, additional stirs were used and the wait time before the next stage was dramatically reduced. As if . . .

"Oh!" Hermione gasped. "You're brilliant, professor."

Snape started at the noise, in the middle of his own brewing, but allowed the girl her moment. He knew her mind would figure it out. Still, he made her sweat. "And what have I done to deserve your accolades?"

"You crush the lionfish spines to allow a greater surface area for a reaction," Miss Granger supplied. "But because they are crushed, you don't need as many. It decreases the amount you use and speeds up the process for the potion! Why isn't it taught like that in class?"

"Because if something goes wrong at that point of the potion, and the catalyst activates too quickly, there tends to be an explosion," Snape explained calmly, still counting his stirs. "As such, I would not allow Mr. Longbottom to brew it that way, as I would like to be able to spot his error prior to the class being decimated."

Hermione laughed, not at all offended for her friend. "He does tend to take a few shots, doesn't he?"

"Even then," Snape intoned. Finally done with his stirs, he let the Veritaserum start turning a muck-like yellow before his eyes before turning to his apprentice. "That is but one example of the improvements that Masters can and do make to potions. They are our trade secrets, if you will, Miss Granger. Our potions turn out more potent, more cost effective, and overall _more_. Our innovations are what make us great potioneers."

"But why aren't any of these revised recipes published?" Hermione asked excitedly. "Obviously a child's textbook wouldn't need this, but something for independent brewers and apothecaries . . ."

"Then I would be allowing the whole world to be a master," Snape pointed out. "I am a Slytherin, Miss Granger, and many of those improvements would make dangerous potions even moreso. In the interest of preserving my rank as Master and preventing the Dark from winning this war, I prefer to keep such things to myself."

"And to me," Hermione added hesitantly.

Snape smirked. "Yes, where few are tread, you are now the first apprentice I have. As such, you are privy to my research and secrets.

"Those books are simply improvements on the course-required potions," Snape continued on, as if he hadn't given her a bit of praise. "I do have other potions I have developed solely for the Order or my own personal stores that no one knows how to mix. Those are some of the last I will teach you, Miss Granger. It will first require that you learn the basics I put towards the changes in those books, and to hone the skills required to produce a flawless potion every single time you sit to brew. Do that, and practice your skills, and I may deem you fit to aid in their brewing."

Hermione thought that was the best incentive ever.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

Studying for NEWTS made the time fly far too quickly for Hermione. Even when she took breaks with Master Snape (as she was beginning to call him regularly) the day flew by at remarkable speeds. It was coming close to the day of her NEWTS exams now, only three days away, and she was panicking. Harry and Ron had both attempted to comfort her, only to say something silly like 'You know you'll do amazing.' or 'What? The worst you'll get is an E.' That last one had her screaming like a banshee until Ron ran from the room.

In the days leading up to their last lesson, Snape was feeling the small pull to check on her growing stronger and stronger. The contractual magic that bound them together was seeing fit to remind him of her agitated state, and he fought against the impulse. She was taking her NEWTS, of course she'd be agitated. It wasn't life-threatening, so Severus should not be forced to molly-coddle the witch.

But when Snape had come for their final Potions lesson, he saw her state and winced. Hermione was normally rosy-cheeked, passionate, and loud, with a spark in her eye to rival Dumbledore when it came to new knowledge. Revising old knowledge, he saw, was not healthy in large doses. Her eyes had such dark rings around them he thought someone had punched her. Her hair was tied up in a bun, but he saw the grease built-up on it and sighed, knowing she had been neglecting her hygiene as well as her sleep. Heaven knows whether she'd been eating enough. No wonder the pull was so strong.

"Miss Granger," Snape said in greeting. He watched as she jolted upright from her hurried note-taking and a smile graced her lips. He expected something like a tired glare from the girl, but the smile just made his guilt at her neglect more pronounced.

"Hello, Master Snape," Hermione greeted.

He raised his brow. "Miss Granger, were you planning on arriving at your NEWTS looking for all intents and purposes like an inferi?"

She finally seemed to grow her infamous backbone, because after a look of hurt crossed her features she glared at him as if she wanted nothing more than to hex him. That was a look he was accustomed to. _That_ he could bear with no semblance of guilt.

"I didn't count on you being the shallow type, sir," Hermione nearly growled in irritation.

"Making a veiled reference to my appearance, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape sneered. "You are correct, I do not care about _my_ appearance, however, as my apprentice, I would prefer that you at least make a semblance of an attempt at _yours_. Having you in such a state reflects poorly upon your master, don't you think?"

He watched in pleasure as colour returned to her cheeks, even if it was in rage. "I will not be bringing you back to brew with me until you have at least showered, Miss Granger, so do hurry up. You will find me in the kitchen when you have cleaned yourself."

Before she could curse him, he turned on his heel and descended the steps. He would spend the time preparing something for her to eat; no matter what she said, she was in need of more tending to than he had previously thought.

Unfortunately, Sirius Black was propping up his feet and reading the paper in the kitchen when he entered. Their eyes met briefly, but surprisingly Black ignored him and went back to _The Daily Prophet_ in his hand. With a pleased smirk, he moved to the fridge and cupboards. Something heavy in calories and protein would do, he thought. Pulling out eggs, potatoes, some sausage and cheese he got to work on an easy hash for the girl upstairs.

Besides the sound of the knife cutting the potatoes, or the rustling of the paper as a page turned, no sound was made between the two dark men in the kitchen. After about ten minutes of silence, Molly entered the kitchen, probably drawn in by the sound of someone cooking who wasn't her. She was such a coddler.

"Oh, Severus!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know you were coming! If you're hungry, I can-"

"This is for Miss Granger," Snape grunted at her.

It wouldn't do for his to have the woman presume upon him. He was not one of her brood, though whenever he was there he felt as if that's how he was treated. He always presumed Dumbledore had told her about his upbringing and she was trying to make up for his childhood years by treating her as a child himself. Surprisingly, it made her more tolerable than to have her glaring at him like Moody or avoiding him like Remus.

"Oh, how good of you!" Molly praised. "We've been trying to get her down for dinner every night, but she never comes. We can hardly enter the room without her hexing someone."

"You simply do not have my advantages," he drawled, dropping the potatoes into the skillet with the sausage. "I will ensure she eats from now on, Molly, worry not."

"And how do you plan on accomplishing that, Snape?" Black asked from his place at the table.

"I merely will remind her of my duties to her as my apprentice," Snape purred at the arrogant man. "You're well aware I would be forced to care for her _personally_ should she work herself into the ground."

Black growled. "You keep your bloody hands off of her!"

Snape smirked but said nothing, turning back to his tasks.

"Really gentleman," Molly tsked. "I think it's rather sweet of Severus to care for her. She needs it with how she's been working lately."

"After her NEWTS she'll be fine, Molly," Black insisted. "He won't need to take care of her."

That made him roll his eyes. "After she's finished her NEWTS, she will be moving into the castle, _Black._ I am, in fact, the one who will need to care for her."

"She can stay here!" Black protested.

"She has lesson plans to revise," Snape informed him. His meddling was beginning to boil his blood. "Potions to brew. Combat training as well. And, as her master, I must provide her with accommodations. Consider her moving as a fulfillment of both her and my obligations."

"If you take advantage of her-"

Snape dropped his spatula in shock. No one knew how those words affected him. He would never . . .

"Sirius!" Molly protested.

"No, the dog can finish his thoughts," Snape hissed. He glared at the convict, still looking far too comfortable in his seat for this conversation. "Come on Black, what do you think? Do you think I'll be tempted to abuse her? Hit her? Rape her? Do you think I'm a stinking Death Eater who can't keep himself from cursing anyone within reach?"

"You are a Death Eater!" Sirius shouted. "You may do it on Dumbledore's orders, but you kill, you rape, and you'd have to enjoy it to do it as often as you do!"

Snape was across the kitchen with a wand to his throat before he could get out of his chair. "Continue, Black," Snape pressed his wand into his neck. "Give me a reason to hex you."

"Really, boys!"

They ignored her, and Sirius glared at him without fear. "You tell us what happens at your meetings, Snivellus. The torture, the killings, the _revels_. . . I think you enjoy it, and Hermione'll be the one you take it out on!"

Snape moved closer until he was in Sirius' face. His anger was obvious to everyone in the room, prompting even Molly to silence. He didn't hear the door crack open a little wider as a small brunette watched the scene.

"Just because you have to be a Gryffindor every time anyone around you cries for help," Snape hissed, "does not mean that I simply ignore the screams. Yes, I have seen and done things that would make a normal man vomit in revulsion. But I do it, and I endure it, and at night I hear the screams – the final moments when my victims plead for death – and I curse Dumbledore for forcing me to play this role. I go back every time because I have no choice, Black, because I am the only person who can. I may be a Death Eater, a killer, and even a sorry excuse for a man, but do not EVER accuse me of doing it for pleasure. Do. NOT. Assume. To Know. ME."

The glaring between the two men was heated and full of years of resentment from the both of them. Right before Snape was about to curse him for good measure, he heard a quiet and familiar, "Sir?"

He turned to see Miss Granger, timidly clenching her hands together behind her back, standing in the doorway. Her eyes were fixed on him. Hermione was filled with horror at what she had heard, what he had endured, while all Snape saw in her eyes was the horror at the treatment he'd given Black.

He backed away from Black quickly and assuredly. He nodded to the girl. "You look better already, Miss Granger."

She did. Her skin looked just a bit more fresh and pink, her hair was wet and hung in precise ringlets instead of fuzzy disorder around her face. She was wearing her muggle clothing, but at least she was wearing something worthy of her form, but which was looking thin as ever she had.

"I needed the shower, Master Snape, thank you," she murmured, keeping her eyes on him. "Will we be going?"

Snape gave her a small smile, the kind born of shame. "Actually, you'll be sitting at the table for a moment. You need to eat."

He pulled out a chair for her, raising an eyebrow as if daring her to ignore the gesture. To his surprise, she didn't even pause before walking over and setting herself in the chair. He nodded in approval before turning back to the stove where he really needed to mix the hash before the pan decided to burn.

"Hermione-" he heard Black say.

"Don't."

That one word was enough to make Snape's smile a little more genuine. His little apprentice was defending him, and it felt good. Especially if she was going to do it to the infuriating Animagus that Potter had attached himself to.

"I'm glad you're taking a break dear," Molly said, giving in to her mothering instincts and preparing them all some tea. "You have been working yourself too hard. How did Severus convince you to stop?"

He could picture her typical embarrassed blush. "He threatened to keep me from brewing," he heard her mumble.

Molly laughed heartily at her silliness, tempting Snape to join in. "Well, he certainly knows how to tame you, dear."

"I have found she enjoys the stimulation from brewing nearly as much as the opportunity it gives her to process her studies," Snape told Molly, hoping his little Gryffindor was blushing furiously. "She will never admit it, but she needs the break from her books."

"I just like being useful!" Hermione protested.

"So you don't enjoy brewing as an activity?" Snape gave him his signature eyebrow.

She flushed under his gaze, much to his amusement. "I didn't say that."

"Do you replay my first-year speech in your head when you're preparing to brew?" he teased, watching her grow red. "I thought so."

"Not for every potion!" She objected.

"Just the new ones."

That made her silent in embarrassment. Mrs. Weasley handed him a plate, and he dished out a huge helping for his apprentice. Placing it, as well as a restorative draught, in front of her, he simply ordered, "Eat."

* * *

He left her alone in the lab for the first time that day. If he was trying to make her less anxious, he was failing miserably. Hermione peeked at the door nearly every step in the process of making the Blood Replenishing Potion, thinking she'd be stopped midway and told she'd forgotten something, or he'd come in and reveal exactly why he'd done this. It wasn't until she was finished with the potion and was decanting it that the Potions Master returned to his inner sanctum.

"Let me see that vial."

She handed it over wordlessly, watching him carefully.

He looked at the potion, observing the colour and consistency as it sloshed in the glass vial. He uncorked it, gave it a sniff, then downed it immediately. Hermione shot forward, hands outstretched to help, but Snape waved her off.

"A perfect O," Snape told her. "Let's proceed to the next portion of your examinations, Charms. Follow me."

Hermione was disoriented. "The next portion, sir?"

"Follow."

She followed his up the passageway and out of his office. She trailed him silently, wondering. He led her down a corridor she hadn't explored previously, pulling open some random door to her left. Inside, the familiar image of Professor Flitwick balancing on textbooks greeted her. She was shocked, however, to see Professor McGonagall, Vector, Babbling, Sprouts, Binns, and even Hagrid.

"Welcome to your NEWTS exam, apprentice Granger," Snape murmured in her ear, coming up behind her.

"I . . . er, I don't- I'm not ready!" Hermione finally shrieked, earning many chuckles from the Professors.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall greeted. "You didn't think the staff here would simply sit by while the brightest witch of her age took her NEWTS earlier than any other student in Hogwarts history, did you?"

"Yes, yes, of course!" Flitwick agreed. "We all wanted to see you off, as it were, before your _real_ examinations. You will be taking the tests in a few days, we understand?"

"Yes sir," Hermione replied. Her head was spinning a little. Did that mean these _weren't_ her exams?

"We wanted to make sure you felt ready, Miss Granger," Professor Vector replied happily, brushing a single strand of her elegant hair away from her face. "Since Severus saw fit to deny us our brilliant student for the last three years of instruction, we all agreed to at least oversee your last revision."

Hermione felt the prickle of tears, and before she could help it she was sobbing. These professors were going out of their way to tell her she was appreciated. They were all simultaneously paying her a massive compliment. She was getting a chance to relax and know how she would do. On top of all of this, Professor Snape had orchestrated it.

She turned around and threw herself at her dour Potions Master.

Snape though he might have gone into shock. His apprentice had listened to the intro the teachers had prepared, and was now sobbing into his jacket. He wasn't sure what to do. Surely she would come to her senses and release him once she realized who she was crying on. He looked to his colleagues. Minerva looked just about ready to laugh herself to a hernia, and Flitwick just smiled. Hagrid was looking concerned, but after looking to Minerva for reassurance he felt he didn't need to be. And the others . . . well, they looked as shocked as he.

Finally, after a moment to consider due recourse and after she had refused to pull away, he wrapped his arms around the frail girl.

"Is there a reason for your tears, Miss Granger?" He inquired as apathetically as he could.

She nodded, then turned her tearful, beaming face on him. She looked _happy._ Except for the tears on her face, he'd say she was happier than she'd been all day.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione beamed up at him. "This was really thoughtful."

Snape snorted. "If you believe I orchestrated this, you are mistaken. I merely allowed it."

"Exactly," Hermione didn't miss a beat. "I know if you didn't care you wouldn't have let this happen. Thank you, Master Snape."

Snape couldn't get the throb of her words to leave his chest cavity. So he pushed her away from his person and pointed her towards Minerva McGonagall. "If you must blubber over such trivialities, you will do it with the correct person. Go on, blubber over your Head of House."

Hermione beamed at him once and then sprinted over to Professor McGonagall, who held out her arms for the thankful girl.

"You're most welcome," the old professor said cheerfully to his apprentice before looking up at him with a mirthful expression. "I won't be your Head of House much longer, Miss Granger. Soon, you'll be sitting at the staff table with the rest of us."

"Here, here!" Professor Flitwick cheered.

"Now then," Professor McGonagall lifted the girl and tilted up her chin, "are you ready for your mock-Charms exam?"

Severus watched from the darkened corner he preferred as the teachers tested the budding Miss Granger. Minerva was particularly difficult with the girl, testing her and then declaring that she should have offered her an apprenticeship first before shooting Severus a dirty look that other wizards would have feared. Instead, he simply mock-saluted the old lady and continued his observation.

The girl stunned. She, of course, knew the material. The oral exams she was responding to in place of a written were passed with grace. Her practicals features cross-discipline spells that would have had be found in older texts from her studies in the Hogwarts and Black libraries. Certainly, ones that weren't normally used or tested. She probably found some of those Transfiguration spells in her research to help her parents. Whenever those thoughts crept up, he found himself frowning.

Still, he remembered their conversation from a few weeks prior. She respected him. And he, he found did indeed respect her. It was easier to do so when she was standing there, flinging off spells at rapid pace. It was much easier knowing her dedication to her parents. And it was easiest to do when he remembered the way she had thanked him after she was inducted into the Order.

He could see her wandless ability come into play a few times during her exams, if only because of her stress level. Once or twice, the professors would comment on it as if it were isolated, and she would bluish and thank them. Minerva stole him a glance once when she had used it apparently accidentally, but with a shake of my head she knew I would provide no answers. Truthfully, he had very few. He knew she gained more power when in contact with the earth, so that opened up the possibility of either elemental magic or some sort of creature hybrid. But he was determined it had something to do with her time-travel, but he wasn't really sure how. He knew at some point he'd need to figure out why she had reacted so violently to Dumbledore's wand, but to do that he'd need to speak with him himself. He wasn't ready to reveal her secret to the grand manipulator himself, however. He would just spend some more time on her mystery.

As expected, her studies led to some unorthodox testing, but the overall result was Outstandings in all the subjects he could test her for. Defense had that awful woman coming in as an instructor, so there was no way he would encourage that. And as for Astronomy, nothing could convince Sinistra to come to the school during the summer when she was able to head up to the pole for her Astronomy research. Still, she'd perform remarkably, he was sure.

When they finally finished with her evaluations, it was into the evening. Miss Granger was tired, and was rubbing her eyes as the Professors deliberated. He rolled his eyes, but their theatrics were at least amusing. His eyes caught Minerva fiddling with something under the table, though, and grinned. They had a special gift for her. If anything would give her confidence, it was that.

"Well, Miss Granger," Professor Sprout tittered, "we've got your results."

Miss Granger straightened noticeably and Snape suppressed his desire to mock the girl. She would need more disregard for authourity if she were to be his apprentice.

"The consensus is an Outstanding in all subjects!" Professor Sprout announced. "And then, extra!"

"Extra?" Miss Granger asked. "What do you mean?"

"It means," Professor McGonagall answered, "that we have something for you."

The professors pushed a brown-paper package towards her over the desk, and smiled as Hermione stepped forward uncertainly. Professor Snape observed from the sidelines, looking to see what she had received. When Miss Granger pulled the strings and opened the package, she cast a beaming smile.

Hermione pulled out a gorgeous dark scarlet robe from the wrapping. It was a sensuous, yet practical thing. The robe's arms were fitted tightly, obviously chosen for a Potions Mistress specifically so they didn't drag into her cauldrons. It looked . . . very adult, for the little girl before him.

"We thought Severus' classes could use a little Gryffindor spirit," McGonagall said teasingly. "We thought we'd provide you your first set of teaching robes."

"It's gorgeous," Hermione breathed, skimming her fingers over the velvety fabric. "It's for me?"

"Of course, my dear, of course!" Professor Flitwick laughed. "We all pitched in. It's flame-proof, at least from anything short of dragon's breath, and it has charms for comfort woven into the fabric. Cleaning spells work fine on it, so don't you worry about those Potions spills. And once you decide how you want to present yourself, you can wear whatever you want underneath."

Hermione was still in shock. Snape slunk away from the wall to sneak up behind her.

"They're inducting you into their ranks, Miss Granger," Snape drawled, approaching the scene. "You're a part of the staff, now. Perhaps they're hoping you'll replace me, someday."

"If I don't apprentice her after you," Minerva quipped easily.

Hermione just about burst with enthusiasm. She set down the robes and frantically went around the Professors, thanking them with hugs or handshakes. It was all Snape could do to avoid chuckling.

"Might as well get used to that type of dress, Miss Granger," Snape told her. "I will not permit you to wear those muggle jeans while you are at Hogwarts. You must command respect, even as an apprentice."

"So serious, Severus," Professor Sprout chastised. "Let her enjoy her present."

"Oh I am!" Hermione preened. "You are all so wonderful. I can't wait to get to know you all a bit more this year."

They all chuckled. "As do we, dear, as do we," Professor Vector smiled at her. "Now, you're dead on your feet after today. I'm sure you need a good bite to eat and a night's rest. Severus?"

"I agree," he announced. "Gather your gift, Miss Granger, and I shall return you to your residence."

She quickly grabbed the package and with a happy "Thank you all, goodnight!" they were heading towards the dungeons once more.

"I will be taking you to your examinations personally on Thursday, Miss Granger," Professor Snape announced during their walk. "It will be my privilege as your Master. I expect you to be exhausted afterwards, so I want you to be fully packed and ready to move into the castle prior to the exam. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, _master_ ," Snape corrected. "Best get used to it now. You are learning, but you can learn quicker. Would you like to see your rooms tonight, or wait until after your NEWTS?"

The questions surprised Hermione. "I thought the rooms wouldn't be available until after."

Snape chuckled. "Miss Granger, this castle is extremely large; there are always rooms available. However, I ensured that the house-elves prepared your rooms to my specifications well in advance. Should you wish to see them now, they are ready for you."

Hermione hesitated, then shook her head. "I appreciate the thought, Master, but I prefer that to be my reward after my NEWTS."

"As you wish, Miss Granger," Snape allowed. "Don't think, however, that will be the sole reward."

"Really?" Hermione asked excitedly. "You don't really have to, sir."

"Nonsense," Snape waved her off. They entered his office, and he purposefully strode over to the fireplace. "It is my duty. Once you have completed your NEWTS and thus proven you can handle the apprenticeship, I will have a few items for you that are essential for any serious Potions apprentice."

He threw a handful of floo powder into the flames. "12 Grimmauld Place!" he called, watching the flames turn green. He turned to his apprentice. "For now, however, to bed with you. I will come for you on Thursday."

"Thank you, sir!" Hermione cheered gratefully. She hugged him quickly before she ducked through the flames and disappeared form his view.

"You welcome, Miss Granger," he whispered. He watched until the last bits of green burned away, leaving him watching the orange fire with foreign emotion haunting his gaze.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

* * *

After her mock-exams, Hermione was in a noticeably better mood. Her last few days of preparations became more relaxed, more carefree. The confidence the Hogwarts faculty had placed within her bloomed to healthy assurance, and she actually treated herself well. She ate with her mismatching surrogate family, and she resumed her nightly earth-waking to rejuvenate her.

Until Professor Snape had told her to sleep, she hadn't even remembered that she had been. She had actually been sleeping. She'd been falling asleep during her studies, and she had attributed that to stress. She filed that away to discuss with him, but with her nightly walks resumed she found herself able to study at a leisurely pace night and day until Thursday arrived.

Hermione fiddled with her wand, feeling awkward as she waited at the breakfast with the gang. She picked at her scrambled eggs and toast, her belly in knots. Sirius gave her a wide smile from across the table.

"C'mon kitten!" he exclaimed. "You'll do just fine. It's only NEWTS, and besides, you already have an apprenticeship!"

"Which I won't have if I don't pass these tests!" Hermione yipped anxiously.

Mrs. Weasley bustled over, ignoring the already hardly eaten food and placing a scone on her plate with a hug on the side. "Don't fret now. Severus would hardly let you take them if you weren't going to pass."

"Exceeds Expectations at least, Molly," the familiar drawl said from the doorway behind her.

"Professor Snape!" Hermione greeted happily, turning to look at him. He was decked in somewhat muggle apparel, with his standard woolen pants matched now with a blazer and button up. Both collars were raised, as if she could see him leaving Hogwarts with a snark, _I'm Snape. Severus Snape._ No tie, thank goodness. Could anyone actually imagine him in such a thing? Hermione was a little uncomfortable with him dressed as an attractive British model, and she blushed as she realized she had just thought her professor was attractive. Goodness, she could never admit it to anyone.

" _Master_ Snape," he reminded her with a stern look. "Are you prepared, _Apprentice_ Granger?"

"Is that really you, Severus?" Molly goggled at him. "Oh, you look at least ten years younger in that outfit. Why have you been hiding away?"

"It is not customary for a Death Eater to wear muggle attire, Molly," he pointed out with a sneer. "This is only a temporary look as we will need to use the visitors entrance to the Ministry."

"Oh, where is that?" Hermione asked, frowning slightly.

Molly answered that one. "Muggle London, dear. You'll just use one of those old red boxes and off you go!"

"Telephone box, Molly, really," Snape instructed, looking a little irritated.

Hermione jumped from her seat at the table with her satchel and presented herself in front of Professor Snape as if she were looking to pass his inspection. Unsurprisingly, he did just that. A cursory look up and down, and flick of the wand to her hair to pull it into a manageable updo.

"Hey!" Hermione's hand went to her hair. Surprisingly, it didn't feel frizzy and free. What on earth did she look like?

"I can't have you failing your potions NEWT because a stray hair fell in," Snape informed her briskly. "I'll teach you that charm before school resumes next month. Now, you have plenty of ink, quills?"

"Yes, _master,_ " Hermione prodded happily.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Spare parchment?"

"Yes."

He motioned for her to follow him and she waved goodbye to the adults in the kitchen eagerly before hopping off after him. When they left the house, Snape paused and regarded her with a cool expression.

"There's one more thing you need before this outing. . . I do not suppose you have your apprentice mark in that bag?"

Hermione froze. "Sir?"

Snape hid a smirk at his apprentice's confused expression. Good. He pulled out the necklace from his pocket with a flare, presenting it to the young witch. Hermione looked at the token with awe. It was a huge golden medallion the size of her fist hung on a large but well-crafted golden chain. The image in the center was some sort of insignia, she was sure, representing something of the aristocracy. There were three quills that came to the same point on the middle prong of a crown. _Anima Bellatoris, Regis Mens_ was inscribed in a banner along the sides.

"This is an apprentice mark," Snape explained, grinning a little at the excited witch. "When a Master receives and apprentice, it is an accepted tradition that they give them a symbol of his house to be worn in plain view on their person. This was once because anyone with a symbol or insignia were considered family, but nowadays it is merely a symbol of the trust and apprenticeship commitment between you and I."

"This is the symbol of your house?" Hermione breathed, awe-inspired.

"It is the symbol of the Prince family," Snape told her with a soft look in his eye, "the lineage of my mother. The Prince family was once one of the great pureblood families, Miss Granger, related to the Black Prince of Wales himself back in the Dark Ages. The three feathers are from that time, whereas the crown is for the name itself. _Anima Bellatoris, Regis Mens_ translates to 'Heart of a Warrior, Mind of a King' and was our family's motto. Throughout the decades children have been impotent, unmarried, or cut from the family tree with such impunity that I am the only descendant of that line. It is a point of great pride for me, Miss Granger, to have the symbol of my mother's family to impart to you. Will you do me honour by wearing it?"

"Of course, Professor!" Hermione was close to tears at this point. She nearly took it in her hands, but paused and looked up at him with her innocent eyes. "Will you please fasten it for me?"

Snape fought to remain impassive as he nodded. He'd only ever done such an intimate thing with his own mother, or Lily. He was always shocked if anyone turned their back to him, let alone to give him rights with their person. He left that train of thought stone cold dead and unhooked the chain before lifting it around Hermione's neck.

Hermione was blushing slightly. No one but her father had ever done this before, and it felt strangely intimate. She knew she was being ridiculous, but it was a sweet gesture from the cold man behind her, yet another one to add to the list since he found her that night. More and more, he was proving his decency. He was even bestowing on her something like this! She would wear it always. The gold would go fine with her red robes . . . She wondered if Snape knew he'd given her the ability to wear both Gryffindor colours.

She hid a giggle under her breath before she turned back around, the long medallion swinging around her navel at the movement. It glinted happily in the morning sun.

"Thank you, Master," she replied earnestly. She could see the meaning of the symbol in his black eyes. "It is an honour for me to be affiliated with your house."

Snape gave her a genuine smile and she beamed back up at him, her stomach churning slightly.

"We must go."

He offered her his arm. She took it and they apparated.

Snape brought them to an apparition zone within a muggle-repelled alley in central London and didn't linger. He escorted Hermione along like a couple simply going for a stroll. They maneuvered around the morning work crowd walking along and quickly moved her to more isolated space with a set of telephone boxes. He pulled her into an out of order phone box and shut the door. The code of 62442 was entered into the phone, and she found herself lowering into a giant underground center.

"We need to head to Level 2," Snape told her quickly and quietly. "I will be staying with you, but I must encourage you to avoid attracting attention. Both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore are on your side for these exams, but those unaware of the truth may try to keep any of you or your friends from succeeding. The mark should keep the purebloods at bay, but anyone else is free to attack you. Just know that if they question you, they are questioning me. Refer them to me and I will take care of them."

Hermione shivered at his threat, but nodded.

"Is that the reason for the hair charm?" Hermione asked.

Snape smirked and nodded. "Your normal hair is very memorable, Miss Granger. If someone such as Lucius Malfoy were to see you . . ."

"He wouldn't think of me," she acknowledged with a grin. "Very smart."

The doors opened and he offered an arm again. She took it gratefully, glad to be escorted anywhere like a lady instead of traipsing behind people like a disease. But she also had never been here, and the high ceilings and multiple floos were disconcerting to her. He led her up to the desk with his impassive sneer.

A cheery blonde receptionist greeted them. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, Level 8. Where are you headed today?"

"Level 2," Professor Snape announced. "I am Professor Snape, and I am bringing a student for early NEWTS testing. She will need to retain her wand."

"Of course," the receptionist smiled. "If you will surrender your wand, however, Professor. And Miss, we just need to put a small tracker on you. You will only be permitted on Levels 8 and 2. If you enter any other level you will activate the alarms and you'll be escorted out."

"Of course," Hermione agreed, opening her arms in invitation.

With a flick of her wand, the receptionist was done. Snape was given a ticket for his wand and they were both permitted entry into the ministry.

Hermione was delivered to Level 2 without incident. The Certification Office was filled with nervous or confident adults and various robed officials. Snape pulled her arrogantly to the front of the group and presented her to the official.

"Severus Snape!" His name was Dirigen Makks. Snape nodded differentially at him. "So, they sent the student with you today, huh? Well, sweetheart, what's your name?"

"Hermione Jean Granger?" she made it sound like a question.

"And will Hogwarts be able to get you your scores from today?" Dirigen asked politely. "Or would you prefer an owl with the results?"

Snape stepped forward. "She is my apprentice, Mr. Makks. I will ensure she receives her grades."

That seemed to fluster the man. He processed her forms with a hurried fashion. He gave them to Hermione who just took the, confused.

"Just bring those in to your examiner. They have all your paper exams, and then they'll move you onto the practicals," Dirigen explained. "You'll be called in a minute."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

Hermione was a wreck. She had left her exams with no clue of how she went. The proctor she had been put with was more unreadable than Snape; he was bored, uninterested, and made no comments after any of her practical spell exams.

"He didn't say anything!" Hermione wailed. "I could have been performing the wrong spell for all I know! All I know is that I didn't even impress him! He barely acknowledged me!"

"Enough, Miss Granger!" Snape snapped.

"But what if I failed?" she insisted.

Snape growled, but thrust his ticket in the receptionist's hand and grabbed his wand without taking his piercing black eyes off of Hermione, who had resumed fidgeting with her hands. With his wand now in hand, he just grabbed Hermione's arm and hailed her off while she yelled a 'Hey!' loudly enough to warrant a few glances. He took her to the apparition point and roughly pulling her into a side-long.

Hermione landed, disoriented and confused, in Diagon Alley.

"Follow me, Miss Granger, and please keep from your anxious babbling," Snape muttered.

She fell in step behind him.

"I was going to save this for another day, Miss Granger, but to return you to Molly in this state would earn my head," Snape commented. They took a turn down a street called Ignis Alley which she had never gone to in all her years of coming to the wizarding hub. "So I'm going to introduce you to someone you will become familiar with over the course of your apprenticeship."

He led her to an unassuming storefront simply labelled _Sorcerer's Supplies and Specialties est. 1340_ in faded etched lettering on the glass. The creaky wooden door hit a bell on the way in, prompting a hobbly old man and a younger blonde boy to pop out of the back room. The old man greeted Snape with a gleaming smile.

"Severus Snape, I was wondering when you'd come pick up your order," the man wheezed with a cough-like chuckle. "Darren, go get the Snape order from the back. And try not to spill anything this time!"

The boy nodded and ducked out of the room, leaving Hermione with the two apparent friends.

"You're doing well, I presume, Archie?" Snape inquired with a level voice.

"As good as every year and all the years before," he affirmed with a happy smile. He turned to Hermione and extended a hand. "So you're the apprentice, eh? Achibald Blake, at your service mi'lady. It must have taken some convincing to get this crow to give you the position, huh?"

Hermione chuckled. "Actually, he convinced me, Mr Blake. My name's Hermione Granger. I actually just came from taking my NEWTS."

"A youngin' eh?" Archie raised a brow at his long-time customer. Professor Snape was doing his best to look nonplussed by the interrogation, but under his old eye nothing was missed. Even the subtle movement of his arm to bring him just a little closer to the student, as if to protect him from an old friend. Quite a good indicator in Archie's book. Snape never wanted to get closer to anyone. "Well, how'd those go for ya?"

"Don't get her started, Archie," Snape warned with a smirk. "She will not be satisfied until she has the scores in her hands."

"Ah, just like you then, eh?" the old man laughed. "Well, did you want her order as well now, or will you take that later."

"Now," Snape said, ignoring he look on Hermione's face. "Anything to distract this pest from her supposed failure."

Archie came out from behind the desk and crooked his finger at the girl to follow him. He led her off to a section of shelves that held various kinds of dragon hide on display. The broad scales of the Horntail and the leather underside of the Greenback and everything in between. She nearly touched the pearl-esque piece of Opaleye that hung there, glinting faintly.

"Professor Snape said you'd be needing some boots like his, young Apprentice. It'll be easy enough to make them once we select the kind of boots and the type of dragonhide we'll use-"

"I want them knee high for Miss Granger," Snape told him sternly. "And Vipertooth hide for the exterior."

"You're getting me dragonhide boots?" Hermione finally asked, snapping out of her daze. "Those are terribly expensive, Professor!"

" _Master,_ " Snape reminded her sternly. "Do not forget again. And I believe I told you I would be providing you with everything you need for this apprenticeship. Boots are not the only things I intend to purchase for you, so I suggest you get used to the idea fairly quickly. Now, sit down so Mr. Blake can measure your feet properly."

She did as she was told and sat down. His stern look reminded her that they were in public for once, and that he would not be letting up on his Master to Apprentice control. She needed to play the role for him, at the very least. So she let the man measure her for the boots.

"You have some of the slimmest legs we've ever had in here," Archie complained. He took out a large dragon scale, black like a Vipertooth, and held it to the bottom of her foot in contemplation. It was massive! He took her other foot and put it on, then nodded. He took out his wand and quickly cut the soles of the boots from the tooth and sent the remains of it over to his desk.

"Dragon scales are heavy," he warned her. "And while we'll line the inside of the boots so you're comfy walking in them, they will probably make you a little sore at first from the effort. At least we can rune them. Cushioning charm won't work on the scales, but with the right rune you'll be silent as a shadow."

"Is that how you sneak up on students, Master?" Hermione quipped at the glowering man.

"Will I need to order you to not reveal my secrets?" Snape asked politely.

Hermione chuckled. "Apparently, I'll be on patrols as well. Why would I give up my own secrets, Master?"

They shared a secret smile.

"Alright, runes all etched," Archie wheezed up to a standing position. "Now, I believe a young girl like yourself will appreciate a more feminine design of boot than the Professor over here, eh? I did this design for a potioneer from Wales just the other day, and I think it will work wonderfully."

He waved his wand over one of the drawers and supplies came out. A sheet of black, scaled dragonhide started forming around the two soles, twisting and bending. It was a more impressive version of Madame Maulkins. Laces came from another drawer, fixing themselves between the two end bits of the dragonhide and looped them together. Within a few minutes, he had a pair of gorgeous, knee-high black boots.

"Oh, final touch!" He waved his wand again at the dragon scale sole. It bend slightly, moving to make room for a heel to be fixed into place. Summoning back the cutout scale he'd banished, he made a series of precision cuts and fixed the back of the shoes with relatively stable-looking, practical yet sexy heels. Hermione knew when she saw them exactly what her teaching apparel would look like. What better apprentice to the dungeon bat than someone just a little vampiric as well?

"That was incredible!" Hermione praised, looking at the boots. "You're dealing with dragonhide, the toughest material of all, and you hardly moved your wand. That was fantastic!"

"I've been doing this since before you were born, young Apprentice," Archie waved off. Hermione still saw the grin from her praise and smiled at the man. "Now, try these on."

Snape nearly laughed at the young apprentice. She was just so in awe at everything. She didn't even grab the boots straight away to put them on. He watched as she just brushed her fingers along the dragonhide sides, as if appreciating the sensations. He knew how she felt. The first time he'd been able to afford the boots, he'd bought them. He'd barely been a professor at that point, but he had endured the entire apprenticeship with burning toes and spill marks along his legs. She wouldn't know it, but she was lucky to have them. He wouldn't have gotten them for her so soon, but after the way she had looked to him on Monday, he had felt a need to protect her. He never wanted to see her look so sickly again, and he couldn't even imagine her with burns along her legs.

When they were reassured of the fit, Archie packed the boots for Miss Granger and placed them on the counter with the rest of Snape's order. Shrinking down all but the boots, Snape pocketed the packages and exited the store with Miss Granger in tow.

"So what was it you bought?"

"Archie is the supplier of most of my storeroom, Miss Granger," Snape replied, not answering her question. "That is why you'll be seeing him regularly."

"Wow, he must make a killing," she said in surprise. "All the students brewing all year, he just get so much revenue from just Hogwarts."

"Not to mention outfitting the more exclusive clientele that don't deal in The Apothecary," Snape told her. "The Apothecary is very commercialized, catering to the inexperienced or the new, and only in small quantities. He gets ingredients in bulk for companies that care about the quality of their potions, and . . ." he leaned closer to his little apprentice, "he gave Hogwarts a discount."

Hermione chuckled aloud at that. "So, as your apprentice, I'm never to set foot in The Apothecary again?"

"Consider yourself discouraged from that pursuit," Snape affirmed with a nod. They had found themselves back in Diagon Alley at this point, and Snape paused by the opening. "Did you need anything further before moving your domicile?"

"Well, I need to order some clothes from Madame Maulkins," Hermione admitted reluctantly. At his raised eyebrow, she flushed. "But really, it's just for school so I have another couple of months. And I'd need to stop by Gringotts beforehand."

"Is this about your 'teaching look', Apprentice?" Snape jeered, making her even more flushed. "And you accused me of vanity."

"Well, I don't want everyone looking at me like a student anymore," Hermione justified quickly. "Once Dumbledore receives my grades, I'm pretty much graduated and I don't want them using my supposed age to make me feel guilty or inferior. If I still dress in a uniform skirt and blouse they'll never see me as your apprentice, just as know-it-all Hermione, the 5th Year."

Snape didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't thought about the impact this would have on her relationships, or the looks she'd receive from the 6th and 7th years, Slytherin especially. Her being his apprentice and sitting at the staff table would cause a mini-upheaval among the upper classmen. Of course she'd want to look more mature; to not would be to essentially spit in their faces with her supposed age. The Potions Master hadn't looked at Miss Granger as anything but 17 since he found out she was of age, but she was right; technically, this was supposed to be her OWLS year.

Hermione looked at Snape snidely. "Also, you did forbid me from wearing my muggle clothes. You essentially eradicated my wardrobe with that order, you know."

Snape repressed a laugh. "Well then, far be it for me to begrudge you a shopping trip. To Gringotts, then."

It probably should have felt strange to be feeling a sort of companionship with her Master, but Hermione blamed it on the muggle clothes he wore that morning. They had obviously made him look human, and now she was happy to treat him that way. They made their way up to the closest Goblin and handed in her key.

"Hermione Granger, sir," she told him. "I need to make a withdrawal."

"You as well?" The goblin cackled at Snape.

"Yes, from the Prince vault," he replied, handing him a key as well.

"One moment please." There was a shuffle of parchment, and then the goblin had returned. "Miss Hermione Granger was to be informed of a change in her account that occurred this morning, and another change to her account two weeks ago."

"Oh, er, what change?" Hermione asked nervously. She didn't have much money in her Gringotts account, but she had a few hundred Galleons that her parents had insisted on converting.

"A few weeks ago, you were issued the property and remaining financial assets of Mr. and Mrs. Hugo Granger by authorization of the Ministry of Magic. This includes the bank account of Mr. and Mrs. Hugo Granger, sale of their dentistry practise, sale of the property of 18 Douglas St and the insurance for the property claimed as fire damages."

"Wait, what happened to the house?" Hermione asked, her heart sinking.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hugo presumed dead in wizard attack," the goblin replied without a shred of emotion, just reading from his sheet. "The house was razed in the assault. The total of all their financial assets, the amount of 2, 325,789 Galleons 4 Knuts, has been placed in your vault from the event."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?!" Hermione screeched at the Goblin.

"Because you weren't supposed to know yet," Snape said from behind her. He looked guilty, a look Hermione had never seen on his face. "As your Master, the Ministry sent me the details of what had happened. They wanted me to 'lessen the blow' of your loss."

Hermione was not happy. "I assume this is something we need to discuss later?"

Snape nodded tightly.

"With that complete," the goblin continued, ignoring the interaction, "your vault now has a line of credit attached. Here is a checkbook you may use at any magical establishment. If you wish to open an account at any store, the store will have paperwork and provided your magical signature is the same, it will be authourized.

"Now, there was another deposit of the amount of 1000 Galleons to your account earlier today. You have been permanently added to the Hogwarts vault as a staff member as well, with your own access if you require. May I see your wand?"

Hermione handed the goblin her wand timidly. He took it and pressed it to a piece of parchment before the parchment disappeared. He returned it to her outstretched hand.

"If you wish to place purchases on the Hogwarts account, touch the receipt with your wand and use the spell _Activitas._ The receipt with disappear and the amount will be placed back into your account."

"Thank you," Hermione said hesitantly. A look back at Snape showed no surprise at her access. "May we make our withdrawals now?"

"Follow me."

Hermione's vault was now full of money. She goggled at it when the door opened, but then quickly took about fifty Galleons into her Gringotts bag. That would cover any dates she may go on to Hogsmeade without having to resort to her new checkbook. She would use the book at Madame Maulkins though, she was sure. She needed at lease 6 new outfits to wear under her red robes, and probably another robe or two on top of her new one. She probably wasn't busy until the month before school, so Hermione should be fit to order them today. Yeah, she should use the checkbook for that.

When they arrived at the Prince vault, Hermione was struck by the sheer scale of the door. The Prince insignia she wore was carved into the door on a massive scale, with detail she envied and awed. Snape encouraged her to wait in the mine cart, and disappeared into the room until he returned with a normal bag of gold.

When they finally left Gringotts, Snape spoke first. "It was a Death Eater attack, Miss Granger."

"What?"

"After I had reported our arrangement to the Dark Lord," Snape explained, "he decided that if I couldn't control you, he would. He sent a few Death Eaters to your parents' home, and when they arrived they found it empty. Your parents had moved and left it practically deserted. So they burned it to the ground. Your parents weren't there and hadn't been seen for a week, so they were presumed dead.

"The Ministry intervened on your behalf," he continued. "Since you were my apprentice, I was able to sign all the legal documentation and give you control over your assets. They entrusted your knowledge to me, to tell you once you were ready."

"So why didn't you tell me?" Hermione accused, glaring at him.

"You were preparing for your exams!" Snape defended himself. "It wouldn't do to have you distracted, especially since we both know that your parents are alive. The only difference between now and before is that the assets your parents had are now yours."

"It's theirs!" Hermione argued. "They are gone, but their life savings are with me and now I don't know how to get it to them."

"You had a plan, Miss Granger," Snape reminded her gruffly. "Did you plan an occupation for them?"

"Yes, but-"

"Will they have the resources to survive?"

"Yes, but-"

"More than enough?"

"Yes, OK?" Hermione yelled at him. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to get the ache to heal in her chest. "I get it, I did my best. But it feels wrong!"

Snape tugged her towards the side of the alley, taking her by the shoulders and forcing them to look squarely at each other. "Miss Granger, they will be fine. There is a war brewing, and if they had remained they may very well be dead or the Dark Lord's prisoners right now. You were right to send them away. No matter what happens from here on out, you did for them what you could. Never feel guilty.

"I saw many things while I erased their memories, Miss Granger, and I know they loved you with all their hearts. They would have wanted you to have that money as their way of providing for you, and for your future. Do you understand?"

Snape watched the tearful girl. She seemed to have reverted to the same melancholy that he had seen in her house the day they had sent her parents away. The day she had given them up forever. She had circled her arms around herself, looking so ready to bawl he felt no small degree of compassion for her.

"No more tears, Miss Granger," he told her encouragingly. "Do you still wish to visit Madame Maulkins?"

She nodded, and Snape's frown deepened as she tried to force a smile upon her features. Who was she faking for?

"Allow me to accompany you, Miss Granger," Snape extended her an arm. Her touch was feathery soft as she placed her hand on his forearm. It was almost as if she touched the rest of the world so softly because she was afraid of it breaking her. "So, what persona are you going to try to embody in your teaching style?"

"Well, I don't think I can change who I am for this," she told him. "I'll still be overeager with teaching new information, completely unforgiving when it comes to procrastination, and most likely too kind with grades."

"Not once you've done it for a month," Snape advised. "After dealing with those students for any long period of time you tend to be as unforgiving as the Whomping Willow."

Hermione let out a half-hearted giggle. It made her feel a little better. "Are you sure that isn't just you?"

"You'll see," Snape mocked. "Even Pomona throws kindness away when her students make a mistake that was clearly outlined in the lesson."

"I guess I can see that," Hermione allowed. "But for essays-"

"After the twentieth grammar error, you will be tearing them apart with impunity," Snape predicted with cheer. "First and Second Years are the worst."

"My classes, oh joy."

"So, what would Apprentice Granger like to wear to accentuate her teaching?" Snape inquired. "Not dresses, I'm sure."

"Not in a million years," Hermione replied happily. "I'm thinking of becoming a bit medieval, actually, but with pants."

Snape couldn't picture it. "That is contradictory."

"Hmmm. . . well, oh! I know! It's going to be kind of how Mme Rosmerta dresses," Hermione encouraged.

"Like a bar maid?" Snape voiced his disapproval easily.

"No, like a pirate!" Hermione exclaimed, before quickly covering her mouth. Snape could hear the giggles through her hand.

"You are really tired from your exams, aren't you Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I really do think it looks good on me. The whole peasant blouse, corset deal. And with those boots you got for me, I'd look intimidating."

Snape snorted, opening the door to Madame Maulkins for his delusional student. "Simply because you are my apprentice does not mean you need to intimidate your classmates."

"But the medieval look is really cute," Hermione complained. "It'll be a more classy version of Tonks! Besides, if I intimidate them, it'll be more credit to you!"

The shopkeeper came forward and smiled at the pair bantering in her lobby. Mme Maulkins did enjoy a good bit of drama. "Hello Miss Granger, Professor Snape. Can I help you?"

"Help her," Snape dismissed quickly. "Miss Granger, I will be over at Flourish and Blotts. Come find me when you are finished here."

"Yes, Master," she said obediently, still secretly chuckling from their conversation. With a final dirty look, Snape left the store with the tinkling of the bell.

"So, Miss Granger, how may I assist you?" Mmm Maulkins started.

Hermione launched into her specifications and her wants. She ordered ten outfits by the end of it, all in a sort of contemporary medieval style that Mme Maulkins had taken to with an enthusiasm Hermione hadn't seen before. Apparently, she'd been making robes for forever and really wanted some variety. Once or twice, however, she had been lectured for ordering clothes that would make her store ten times as busy than simply robes. Mme Maulkins convinced her that four of her ten outfits could be working dresses, which she managed by giving her a couple of cute options that would work for her. After ordering a green and a black set or robes as well, Hermione left her with a check for the amount and with instructions to send them to Hogwarts, addressed to Apprentice Hermione Granger. She couldn't wait to receive them, actually. She already felt more adult looking at the designs and trying on samples. More importantly, she could already picture Snape snapping remarks at her for dressing like a bar maid.

Hermione hadn't been looking where she was going as she walked down Diagon Alley. She snorted at her thoughts about Snape and ran into a very stern and very immovable wall known as Lucius Malfoy.

She fell backwards quickly, but was rescued by Lucius Malfoy for the first time in her life. It was the first time a Malfoy had even touched her. First time she'd seen anything but malevolence in their eyes. Draco and Narcissa were walking with him and seemed equally stunned when he had wrapped an arm around her waist to straighten her.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," Lucius Malfoy purred at her, earning more looks from Draco than anyone else.

"M-Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, Draco," Hermione greeted with a slight stutter as she righted herself. She met Lucius' eyes and immediately felt his probes against her mind. She shielded more intensely and looked away. "Sorry for running into you. I was a little distracted."

"Watch where you're going next time," Draco bit.

Lucius elegantly swatted his son's leg with his cane. "Draco, be nice. Is that any way to address your godfather's apprentice?"

"Severus took an apprentice?" Narcissa exclaimed, now looking at Hermione with a new eye. It rested on the pendant around her neck. "Oh, that is a beautiful insignia, dear. How wonderful to see that he is keeping the traditions of his house."

"He presented it to me this morning, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione replied politely. "Master Snape is waiting for me in Flourish and Blotts, actually. We were just finishing picking up some ingredients and supplies."

"Hence Madame Maulkins?" Draco smirked, prodding at her lie.

"Well, he may have forbidden me from wearing muggle clothes for my apprenticeship," Hermione admitted with feigned reluctance and a little smirk of her own once she saw how pleased that thought made the Malfoys. Snape would like that slip. "Since I can't teach in the nude, I ordered a new wardrobe."

"Yes, Dumbledore was approved to hire you as staff after you completed your NEWTS," Malfoy agreed. "The governors weren't too fond of the idea, given your age, but I argued in your defense, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said, now confused at the calculating gleam in his eye. "That was . . . unexpected."

"Anything for a friend of the family," Lucius told her, waving to her insignia. "Now, you said Severus was around her somewhere? How about we escort you to him?"

"Right here, old friend," the drawling voice came from behind them. He was walking up the them from the direction of Flourish and Blotts. Hermione noticed how Snape's eyes seemed to narrow just slightly on Malfoy the elder. "It's good to see you."

"Uncle!" Draco greeted happily.

Lucius pushed forward, taking Severus's hand into a man's forearm grip. Hermione was surprised to see the pleasantness with which her master greeted the man. "Severus, old friend, how have you been?" he inquired easily.

"Well, today has been about familiarizing my apprentice with the suppliers of my ingredients," Snape said easily, clapping Lucius' shoulder. "I understand I have you to thank for her approval with the Board of Governors?"

"As I told Miss Granger, anything for a friend of the family," Lucius replied easily. "Where are you off to?"

"We are moving Miss Granger into the castle tonight."

Lucius cocked his head to the side. "I was under the impression she was still a student until she completed her NEWTS."

Snape gave Lucius a knowing smile. "As she has, Lucius. All except Divination, although I understand Professor Trelawney finds her ungifted at the mystic art of seeing."

"That is not my fault!" Hermione insisted hotly. "That fraud has predicted Harry's death so many times he had a complex! It is entirely guesswork!"

They all laughed at her outburst, especially Draco, but remained focused on Severus.

"Well, I wish you luck with the stubborn mare you have," Lucius chuckled at him. "And you are always welcome at the manor, if you need a day away. Feel free to bring your Miss Granger as well."

"I'll do my best, Lucius," Snape bowed his head differentially.

Without giving her her own farewell, they continued their stroll down the lane. Hermione watched as they left, mildly confused but more annoyed than anything. Snape grabbed her by the arm and apparated away in a second.

"What did they say?" Snape growled at her. They had landed in the street by Grimmauld Place, and Hermione couldn't breathe after that apparition. "Miss Granger, I need to know what that interaction was about!"

"Nothing . . . important," Hermione breathed out, trying to fight back the nausea. "I . . . just told them you'd . . . forbidden me from wearing . . . muggle clothing. They were looking ... for you."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm an Occlumens . . . for a reason," Hermione pointed out, still a little shaky in breath. "Mr. Malfoy tried to read me, but I was fine. Nothing important was exchanged."

Snape shook his head at her. She was an absurdly cocky little thing, and she didn't even care. There was a good chance that anything she said would be used against him, but there was an infuriatingly pleased look on her face that infuriated him.

"You are far too sure of yourself, Miss Granger," Snape growled. "I would appreciate you taking this matter more seriously. This is my life!"

Hermione brushed her legs down and stood, finally breathing normally. Snape was not a patient man, and his fists were clenching and unclenching as she took her time responding to his request.

"I hid my time-turner abuse from Dumbledore my entire 3rd year, Master," Hermione dared to scold him. "Whatever you expect me to hide, I can."

"Tell me that after your first _crucio_."

Hermione was aggravated. He was so infuriating! He didn't trust her not to reveal secrets to her _enemy,_ so how could he trust her to be his apprentice? Then he had the balls to look her in the eye and force her tiny crush back at her with those piercing black orbs. If he hadn't looked into her eyes she would have dressed him down for his lack of trust in her, but once those eyes sent warmth through her system she was too ashamed of her feelings to say anything. She fumed as he turned his back on her and walked away. After a moment of steaming from her ears, she took a few Occlumency breaths and followed.

Snape gritted his teeth. His eyes were locked on Miss Granger's, and he found himself equally frustrated by her words as he was by the electrical charge her fighting eyes seems to send to him. He felt it travel down his body like a warm shiver. It only compounded his aggravation, and he moved away from her in an instant and walked up to 12 Grimmauld Place.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * *

Hermione was getting used to life at Hogwarts quite well. Her Potions Apprenticeship was little more than brewing practise and filling orders, but she didn't mind. While Severus was ascerbic and unforgiving of mistakes, he also provided her with everything needed to succeed on her own.

Very few staff remained over the holidays, but those that did participated in a comraderie of shared meals, outings to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, and a shared intellectualism that led to far too many debates and arguments over the usefulness of their chosen fields.

And of course, her room was nothing short of OPULENT. Hogwarts didn't do anything half-measured.

She had a legitimate one-bedroom apartment within the school walls. There was a large living area that included a sitting room/common room type space, with carpets covering most of the dungeon-grey stone, a beautifully medieval fireplace, several luscious leather armchairs, and a ridiculously soft black mohair couch, but also had a little kitchen. Hermione thought it must be for tea and holidays, but that didn't explain the large amount of cupboard space available and the full set of amenities available to her, including a full-sized wood-burning stove. A small bluebell fire on the surface would boil her kettle happily. But the most impressive area were her chambers.

A large king bed, a library and reading area, and a bathroom, all dressed in beige, white, gold. The colouring made every room happy and sunny, and she wondered if it was specifically designed that way to keep her from missing the sun while she was housed in the dungeons. The library and reading area was her favourite. It was clearly designed for a professor, with a large, expensive-looking work desk. From floor to ceiling were bookshelves which already were quarter-filled with her own texts. She wanted more books so her shelves looked as filled as McGonagall's.

She had nearly giggled at the thought of spending time at Tomes and Scrolls during the weekend while the staff went off for firewhiskey. No, that part of Hogwarts life certainly wasn't uncomfortable.

The uncomfortable part was her daily training sessions with Professor- _Master_ Snape. Defense training was fine, it was spells and dueling and quantifiable. It was the physical training that really hated her.

He brought her to a previously unused dueling room and set it up like a boxing gym. Everyday started with her sweating and out of breath, and more than that so, so angry. Occlumency meant she was able to control and use her emotions without giving into her reactions or even her previous biases. Now, however, she just really wanted to beat the stuffing out of Professor Snape.

"Again!"

Hermione did yet another rep of her punch-kick-punch-punch combo against the bag. She didn't even know that Hogwarts had a gym, but apparently the outdated classroom was well-equipped for fighting. She had been forced into doing an overall physical examination with no preparation, and now she was drenched in sweat and trembling within her muscles.

"More strength behind it!" Snape barked.

"I have none!" She yelled back, punching the bag again.

The punching bag disappeared and she lurched forward onto the hard, lacquered wood floor. She hissed in angry agitation as Professor Snape's boots clacked over to her and stopped next to her head.

"I would have thought someone with no strength wouldn't have the ability to throw herself so viciously to the ground," Snape mocked above her. "I believe you have something to say, Miss Granger?"

Hermione took a few deep Occlumency breaths, chilling the rage in her mind with the snows of her shields. "No, _Master_. I was just wondering when we would be finished."

She heard his chuckle and fought the influx of rage. How dare he? He was pushing her to the breaking point, she knew, but that just meant that she was fast approaching it and was blaming him. A few more deep breaths. _Come on,_ she thought, just breath. _He's doing this for Harry. To make you a defender, a protector. It's for your own good._

"We do not stop until I say we stop," Snape jeered. "Now get up."

 _Don't slap him, don't slap him,_ Hermione chanted internally. _Stay polite, don't slap him, don't slap him._

She pushed herself up with her shaking arms and lifted herself painfully to her feet. She had been determined when she entered this training room that her fear of falling on her face in front of him would not translate to her behavior. She was sure it wouldn't be difficult to stay positive.

Snape, however, was making it more than difficult. She was about to hit him if he continued to push her nerves to their breaking point, and she didn't want that. She bowed her head to Snape, if only to avoid glaring at him. _Occlumency breaths, Occlumency breaths . . ._

"You are failing yourself with your attitude, Apprentice," Snape sneered at her. "You are not a child, you are a soldier. Do not think your attitude here will translate into anything more than punishment."

Hermione was losing her grip. How dare he! She'd been polite! She'd taken everything he'd thrown at her with _his_ attitude, and he had the audacity to even suggest it was _her_ attitude that was the problem? He was just like _him._ She couldn't deal with it if he tried anything. Here, she couldn't escape. She could hardly even disobey. She tried to remind herself that Snape wasn't like _him_ and failed. She took another Occlumency breath, trying to chill away the memories.

"You are weak, Apprentice," Snape continued, ignoring the raging storm in front of him. "Your body is weak from disuse, you aren't flexible, your stamina is abysmal, and your fighting wouldn't take down a fellow student let alone a Death Eater."

 _You are weak, you are weak, you are weak . . ._ The words from both men hit on the barriers to her memories, and she flinched violently against the sharp barb.

"I am trying," Hermione murmured under her breath, begging as her last resort. "Please, stop."

 _Please no, please, please, stop, stop it! She had begged._

"Stop what? Telling you where you need to improve? No, I don't think I will," he rounded on her. "You haven't earned that respect yet, so you will not receive it."

He didn't respect her.

"And you think you have earned mine?" Hermione finally snapped, looking up to the Potion's Master. He was smirking at her! "You have been untrusting, unapproachable, and your attitude has been untenable. How dare you?! I've been polite, I've been trying! Not a child? I'm supposed to be in my FIFTH YEAR! How dare you?!

"You push and you push and you push, and not once today have you asked me whether I can be pushed anymore!" Hermione hissed, fighting the tears clenching her throat. "And I can't! I can't be pushed anymore today!"

She turned to leave. Her rage was rolling off of her, and she could nearly feel sparks in her hair. Despite that warning sign, Snape thought it was a good idea to reach out and grab her. She turned in his grip and drew back her fist.

CRACK!

Severus Snape had wanted to break her. Not to kill her spirit, but more to unlock it for her. She rarely reacted, she thought first. In battle, it would be a dangerous action for her to even hesitate for a moment. He had intended to teach her that learning was to prepare for battle, but that on the battlefield nothing mattered except for reacting and reacting quickly. He did not expect the little hellion to punch him.

He also did not expect her punch to send him all the way across the room and into the wall.

Her punch had sent him flying like a powerful _expulso_ and knocked the wind from him all at once. He probably had a broken a rib upon impact with the wall, and the loud crack that came from his side was proof of that. He had unwittingly unlocked more of her strange magic.

Hermione was just as shocked. Then confused. Then horrified.

She ran over to Professor Snape with no reservations and knelt by his side. "Oh my god, Professor, are you okay?"

"I may need, umph, Poppy," Snape grunted with a wince.

"Right away, right away."

Hermione ran to the empty fireplace in the room and used the floo powder they always kept there to yell 'Hospital Wing' into the flame.

"Madame Pomphrey?" Hermione called into the fire. "Madame Pomphrey?!"

The matron's face came up in the flames and Hermione rushed to tell her the issue. The matron came through the flame abruptly and scuttled over to Professor Snape.

"Severus!" Poppy said with reprimand evident. "How many times do I have to put you together?"

"A few hundred more ought to do, Poppy," Snape joked with an additional wince. "Just a rib. I fell."

Hermione watched their interaction with a kind of resentment. He was treating the matronly woman like a friend, and with the kindness he hadn't even shown her all day. She had seen it when she had been caught, when he took her to the staff-sponsored exam prep, in his trip with her to Diagon Alley . . . why was he no longer kind? Why did he insult her? And why, if he was just in a mood today, was he treating this woman in front of him with the kindness she had been trying to rip out of him?

The reason for his broken rib had begun to seep back to Hermione, and she was tempted to just leave him in Madame Pomphrey's care. Every time she looked to the door and her escape, she felt the guilt pin her in place. As angry as she was at his words, she'd hurt him. She needed to stay, even if it risked more angry words from the Potions Master.

"Well, you're lucky," Madame Pomphrey chastised the man. "Nothing else was injured in your little fall, Severus, so you're alright to go about your day. But I want you to relax the rest of the day, and no apparition!"

"Thank you, Poppy," Snape stood up then, stretching out the muscles of his torso for her obvious benefit. Hermione looked away, trying to tell herself she wasn't thinking of how attractive Snape was. She would not focus on her very unprofessional crush while she was angry at him.

Poppy Pomphrey came towards her and patted her on the shoulder with some motherly affection. "Thank you for calling me. If he faints, come fetch me immediately, alright? It's a potential side-effect he's experience before."

"Of course, Mme. Pomphrey," Hermione acknowledged with a grim smile. She didn't even want to stay in the room with him, and now she was on watcher duty.

When they were alone in the room again, she stood still as a brick and pulled on her mind to protect her. She was wrapped in it, enjoying the snow as it fell, the way her boots sank into perfect impressions in the snow. She was fine, until a presence joined her.

Snape stood in the middle of her mindscape, observing her. She tried to ignore him to enjoy her frolicking, but she knew he was there to talk. He would bring her out and force her to acknowledge him. That left her on edge, avoiding the memories that would give it all away.

"You did well," Snape finally said, shocking her.

"Did well?" Hermione repeated. "I broke your rib."

"The key to succeeding in anything is knowing your limits," Snape explained, approaching across the frozen wasteland. "So I forced you to yours."

"There was no other way to do it?" Hermione demanded, tears springing to her eyes.

Snape shook his hooked-nosed face. "No, Miss Granger, there was not. You are too much of a Gryffindor for anything but brutality to work. To teach you, I must first know what your current strengths and weaknesses are, and I can't evaluate you properly when you are so composed all the time.

"So, Miss Granger," Snape continued, now interrogating, "why did my words truly hurt you?"

Her emotions were still so close to the surface that the question made a memory bubble up to the surface, and she fell to her knees trying to compose herself enough to push him out of if. It was like the banging of an angry frum in her mind, and the memory responded to Snape as if drawn to the shadowy man who had invaded her mind. It screamed so loud against her barriers and he pushed against the other side of them that the sustained pressure on both sides effectively broke them and they were pulled together into the memory.

* * *

 _They had come out of nowhere. Malfoy and his minions, Crabbe and Goyle. She couldn't deal with this now. Not after explaining her time-turner use to Harry. She tried to get past them, ignore them, but the gleam in Malfoy's eyes told her to expect trouble._

 _"Not so strong in private, are you Granger?" Malfoy mocked, earning snickers from his minions._

 _"Let me past, Malfoy, before you find out how strong I really am," Hermione demanded, her hand moving to her wand pocket._

 _"_ Expelliarmus _!_ " _Her wand was wretched from her and put into Malfoy's outstretched hand. "I don't think you need this, do you? We're just having a friendly conversation, after all."_

 _"What do you want?" Hermione was moving backwards slowly._

 _Draco sneered at her. "Did you really think you could just attack me, Granger, and that I wouldn't get even?"_

 _She barely had time to see it coming, but even as she tried to duck his seeker reflexes landed his fist directly to her cheek and threw her to the ground. Shock, pain, tears. She raised her hands above her head, trying to block the next blow._

 _"You're so weak, Granger," Malfoy spat. "So muggle without your wand, aren't you? You don't deserve to be a witch."_

 _There were just a few more hits, this time in the form of slaps. Malfoy was angry, yanking her hair to get her to look at him while he slapped her. He twisted her arm painfully behind her back afterwards, making her yelp in pain._

 _"Never. EVER. Do that again. You may end up worse than a little bruised."_

* * *

That incident turned opened the floodgates to every instance of bullying. None so violent but verbal, abuses that she had never forgotten or truly forgiven.

* * *

 _"I don't see a difference."_

 _"Know-it-all!"_

 _"Stuck-up bookworm."_

" _Loud."_

 _"Disruptive."_

 _"Why can't you be normal? Or do you really need to be the center of attention?"_

" _Shut your ugly, over-sized mouth you filthy little mudblood!"_

 _"You're crying? Strong people don't cry. You're weak."_

 _"Pathetic."_

 _"Weak."_

* * *

"GET. OUT!"

Hermione's horror and fear became a corporeal wave that crashed into Snape. He was thrown out of her mind violently, crashing into his own body. Hermione came out of her Occlumency trance and fell to her knees, crumpling into her own form.

The only sounds were Hermione's sobs.

After a few moments of silence, Hermione was lifted gingerly into the air. The smell of sandalwood and potions invaded her senses, calming her. She was set on Professor Snape's lap while she cried, and he muttered comforting syllables, shhhing her into silence and rocking her gently.

"You know, no one has ever thrust me from their mind before," Snape told her, amidst the rocking. "It was that same magic you used when you punched me, I'm sure. The same that has you fearing Dumbledore's wand.

"I'm not sure what it means," he admitted, stroking her hair delicately. "I've looked. Nothing like this has come up before, not to my knowledge. I would like your permission to discuss it with Dumbledore, one day. He may have the answer, or he may not. I want to know what his wand core is. It may help us to identify why its off-putting for you."

"It hurts," Hermione whimpered, feeling every bit the child she was supposed to be.

"Yes, I saw that. His wand hurt you. Obviously, whatever is it with that wand is the antithesis of your magic, and that, in its nature, will help us find out what YOU have, or even are."

She heard him sigh. "I say things like I did because I test people, Miss Granger. I push, and I push, because you can and will do better. But never believe for one second the hurtful words I utter. You are still a know-it-all, but one who I hope will bring our side a distinct advantage. You still have an overbearing need for approval, but I've seen enough of you to know you don't need it. You are a woman now, strong in many ways. When I say you're weak, when others say it, what they're saying is that you are flawed, like them. They are bringing you down to their level. You are very much strong, very much good, and very much intimidating to anyone else."

"Including you?" Hermione looked up at the Potions Master who was in a rare state of compassion. He was looking even more somber than usual, but this wasn't the ice that met her most of the time. It was a fiery sort of look.

"Not a chance, Miss Granger," Snape laughed. "As my apprentice, I should intimidate you. Not the other way around."

When she didn't reply, he kept speaking. His low baritone was smooth and rumbled in his chest when he spoke. She leaned into the sound. "There is little I can say to offer you comfort for your memories, is there?"

"No."

"Would it help to know his father ordered the attack?" Snape offered. Her face jolted upwards until she could look into his eyes, unfortunately bringing their faces ridiculously close together. Severus turned his face away. "Injuries are reported to parents, such as a broken nose and black eyes, and Lucius was told of your … bettering of his son. Draco was told to teach you never to take such liberties."

Hermione looked down, her mind brimming with the implication, but still pressed her face to Snape's chest to still the turmoil.

"While you may not know him, Draco would not have enjoyed your abuse," he continued. "His own fear and his prejudices would have taken the reins in order for him to be so cruel to you. That is not him.

"I will say this;" Snape murmured soothingly, "I will be training you so that what happened to you will never happen again. Being helpless does not reflect upon you, it makes the person who attacked you that much more despicable. For now, you have very aptly protected your mind. You are free when you are in there. We will make you free outside of it."

Hermione remained silent.

"Are you better now?"

She was centered enough to know she as, but far too embarrassed to even slightly acknowledge that she wanted to stay there, close to his scent, even when she was no longer crying. So she shook her head.

"What do you need from me, Miss Granger?"

"Tell me what to do?"

She heard him pause. "You trust me enough to receive my instructions?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then get up."

She hustled out of his lap the moment the words left his mouth, her adrenaline mounting.

"Now go do the combination I taught you."

Hermione froze. She was already tired and emotionally exhausted. She'd proven that. He'd pushed her to that.

"Just do it, Miss Granger."

She complied, but not happily. The residual anger from the memory was still in her, and she hit the bag with vigor. Power seemed to flood through her now that she didn't have before. With everything that had just transpired, she had more energy than before.

"You see, Miss Granger, your limits are not what you see them to be," Snape told her. "If we keep pushing, you can and will gain more strength. You are NOT weak, even if some weakness does occasionally take hold. Now, go again."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

* * *

The next few days of training left Hermione both intimidated and thrilled. Her hand-to-hand combat was always going to be an issue, she feared, but her wandless magic was now a part of her repertoire. She didn't know how Professor Snape did it, but with a mixture of subtle encouragement and harsh demands, she was progressing fast. She could send _stupefys_ faster with her hand than with her wand now, and she was getting used to using a wandless shield while using her wand for the more intricate spells.

She was enjoying living at Hogwarts. The library was no longer remotely restricted to her, and she could come and go from any section without permission. She got to see the Professors who still remained for intimate dinners outside of the Great Hall, usually in the Hufflepuff Suites which were rich for entertaining (dining room included) and Professor Sprout was more than happy to have her. Snape tended to avoid the socialization of meals, but he appeared every now and again when Professor McGonagall brought him forcibly through the floo. Usually to much laughter and a deathly scowl.

She never saw the Headmaster. She felt horrible for feeling glad about it, but something about his wand made her distrust the man who wielded it.

So it was a horrible surprise that the Headmaster visited one day while she was cleaning gnome fingernails for his stores. From the look on Snape's face, she knew he had been invited.

"Albus," Severus greeted from his desk.

"Severus, my boy," he greeted cordially. "Miss Granger, welcome to the staff."

"Thank you Headmaster," she replied formally, focusing on her task.

Snape rose and took the washing strainer from her hands. She protested, but was given only a stern look. "You know very well you need to face this, Miss Granger. We will be testing out your abilities today, and you will give it your all. No matter what result you fear in the end. Clear?"

"Crystal," Hermione caved. She went to wash her hands in the basin to the side of the class, taking her time in washing the garden soil from her fingers.

"You remember what I told you?" she heard Snape murmur behind her. It must have been a yes or no question, because no reply came.

When Hermione turned around, Dumbledore had taken out his wand.

"Put that away!" Hermione screamed, the unwanted adrenaline flooding through her.

She tried to back away from them, and would have probably ended up against the wall, except Snape reached out and grabbed her, forcing her to focus on him. His black eyes sought hers until she caved, resisting the urge to peer over his shoulder at the source of her fear.

"Miss Granger, calm yourself," Snape ordered, his voice low. She knew from her magic that it was a command, and she hastened to take a few deep Occlumency breaths. "This is our biggest clue so far. I need you to let the Headmaster get close, and maybe even touch your skin with that wand."

She whimpered, showing her fear. There was no pride in that moment, just the inescapable urge to flee. Snape nearly smirked at her show of fear, but said nothing. He merely waited for her to take a few more breaths. Hermione knew he wouldn't let her go until she agreed. Slowly, counting every breath, she calmed herself. Finally, she nodded.

"Alright," she agreed. "But I need to keep my eyes closed. Every time I see it, I feel the need to run ten miles away."

"That is fair."

Snape released her, and grabbed her arm to extend it towards Dumbledore. She kept her eyes shut, which helped a little as the fiery magic approached her. She could feel the wand seeping into her, her system reacting, but she remained fixed.

Then, the most violent burning sensation she'd ever experienced scorched through her hand. It burned fiercely, so much so she screamed in agony.

Within moments of her opening her tearfilled eyes, Dumbledore was across the room, and Snape was holding her upright. On her hand was a violent scorch-mark, with a dark, burnt center. She shook her head violently. Her body was tensed and angry, like she had been touched by Voldemort himself. Hermione knew it wasn't rational, but adrenalin was pumping through her veins and making her want to run.

"May I approach, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Not while you're holding it," she begged. "Please, it burns."

Hermione turned to run, but Snape's hands caught her arms and dragged her back 'til she was standing in front of him again. She felt his breath next to her ear before she heard him speak.

"This is good, Miss Granger. He may know something about your magic," Snape whispered in her ear. She felt chills run down her spine. "Your reaction here is a clue."

"That wasn't normal?" Hermione whispered back.

"No," Snape grinned into her ear, not that she could see. He was thrilled with his apprentice. Anything that made Albus reveal just a little bit more was always worth it; Dumbledore had more secrets than he did, and it didn't do when your life was always in danger to not know variables. Something about Miss Granger had unhinged him, and Snape was basking in the knowledge that something was going to slip soon.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore continued when everyone else quieted down, "I promise, I would never intentionally cause you harm. I had not even incanted a spell."

Hermione couldn't disagree with him, but the terror was still gripping her. Every look she cast at the bulbous knobs on the wand make her hairs stand on end and her magic go haywire.

"I promise you," Dumbledore repeated. "Miss Granger, do you know what it is that happened?"

Hermione didn't know _exactly_ what happened. But she said what she did know. "I know that you don't have a normal wand," she whispered. "It hurt me."

"I have performed magic on you before with this wand, Miss Granger," Dumbledore reminded her. "At the Order meeting."

"It hurt then. The Legilimency hurt too," Hermione protested feebly. "Your footsteps through my mind, each one burned me. That didn't happen when Snape tried. I thought it was just your way of getting through my defenses, but it burned the same way your wand does."

"Headmaster," Snape intervened with a silky undertone or satisfaction dripping from his voice, "perhaps you can explain what is so exceptional about your wand?"

"I do not know why it hurt Miss Granger."

"But you know something, Headmaster," Snape countered. "That is not an Ollivander's wand, that much is clear. So, where did you _acquire_ it?"

The Headmaster sighed and took his seat, looking exceptionally old. "I have had this wand for over 50 years, Severus . . . but you are right, it did not originally come from a wand shop where it chose me to wield it. This wand was won in battle with a dark wizard, which I then found had a great affinity for me and have been using since. The wand itself is not dark magic, but it had been used for such before I won it."

"And the wizard?" Snape demanded.

The Headmaster looked to Snape with a sad smile. "The wand is a memento from my battle with Gellert Grindelwald, my boy. It was his."

The room was silent.

"But again, why it hurt dear Hermione after 50 years without an issue is another matter," Dumbledore moved on quickly.

Hermione whimpered. "I can feel it," Hermione cringed. "Since it touched me, I can see the magic coming off of it, Headmaster Dumbledore. It won't ever behave with me. It hates me. It wants me dead."

Snape leaned against the wall and took inventory of the reactions to this. Dumbledore seemed interested in Hermione's words, until she said 'dead'. His body didn't overtly change, but the tension that entered his eyes was enough for Severus Snape to guess that Dumbledore didn't disagree with Miss Granger's assessment of his wand. The reason now, was to find out why.

To do that, the Headmaster would need to see her abilities.

"Headmaster, perhaps we should take Miss Granger out for air and try some magic with my wand?" Snape suggested lightly. For good measure, he added, "I would hate to have her faint."

"And would there be anything else you wish to share with this exercise, Severus?" Dumbledore inquired politely.

"Of course," Snape sneered. "Granger, outside, now!"

The girl jumped up to obey and quickly exited the Potions Master's study, followed by Dumbledore and Snape himself. Snape knew she was eager to both heal herself and find comfort in the exercise. They both followed her until she was outside the castle, standing in the grass.

Dumbledore quickly secured and warded the area before turning to he Master and Apprentice. Hermione looked at Severus questioningly.

"Go on, Miss Granger," Severus reassured her. "Dumbledore can know. Heal yourself."

Hermione nodded shakily, still clutching her burnt hand close to her chest. She lifted her foot from her shoes and place them against the solid earth.

Once her foot touched the garden's earth, the ethereal glow took over his young apprentice again. Her hair nearly hovered with energy, her face became more radiant, and he noticed a large amount of light focused on the palm of her hand. In a moment, all the magic started to dim until they were looking at a slightly luminescent young Gryffindor again.

"Beautiful," Dumbledore whispered under his breath.

Snape couldn't agree more.

Hermione looked down at her palm now, and was relieved to see that it had all gone. Every piece of fiery flesh had been healed. She extended her hand out for Professor Snape to see.

Snape refused, believing the appearance of health. He turned to the Headmaster. "Now, this has been happening since the Trace was removed," Snape informed him. "Her magic is strong, but it is different. We don't know how yet, and I have dismissed various theories such as elemental magic, but that wand you're holding is a clue that is needed. Now. Tell. Me."

"I'm afraid I can't tell," Dumbledore sighed. "It is too much of a risk."

"Headmaster, please," she begged a little bit, "I don't know what's wrong with me. Can't you help me?"

"If you can't tell us," Severus interjected, "then you will help us figure this out for her, since you have additional information we do not."

"Of course, my boy," he twinkled cheerfully. He turned back to Hermione with an inquisitive eye. "Now, Miss Granger, why don't you tell me what changes you've been noticing and we'll try and help you."

She bit her lip, clearly unsure how to explain.

"From the beginning, Miss Granger," Snape snapped, focusing her. She started, but nodded in acquiescence.

"I noticed it when I first realized I didn't have the Trace on me anymore," she started unsurely. "I accidentally shattered the vase in the Black library, when the twins apparated in on me.

"The magic felt different," she continued. "Normally, magic feels like . . ."

"A breeze?"

"Light?"

"Like snow, perhaps?" Professor Snape offered simply.

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Yes, like snow. Like it is prickling at your skin a little, but is still falling beautifully all around you. That's what my magic felt like at school last year."

"And now?" Dumbledore prompted.

She got a faraway look in her eyes. "That's what I tried to figure out. After a few days without a single Ministry owl, I knew I was officially of age. I went to my room to try a few spells on my own, to test the strange feeling.

"The magic felt like it was being blocked by something," she explained. "I couldn't figure out how to get it to answer to me again. But then, as I was going to bed I tried again. I was barefoot, and I was convinced that had something to do with it, as bizarre as it sounded. Magic just seemed to come up from the earth, Headmaster. The old feeling was replaced by a huge rush, and it scared me. I thought it would swallow me whole. I couldn't stop it once it started, and it felt like hours before the rushing stopped and my body felt . . . strange. Like . . . I was fine."

"What do you mean?"

She frowned at him. "Lupin always feels wrong somehow, right?" she asked. "Like the magic is draining into his wolf? Or that his wolf is always under the surface?"

"The point, Miss Granger," Snape sneered.

"But imagine the feeling you'd have if all of a sudden you were just . . .fine," Hermione insisted. "I feel like I've been cured of something. Like I've had something purged from my system that wasn't supposed to be there, and now I don't even sleep! My body doesn't get tired, and every time I do start to feel remotely drained it's like the earth pushes magic up to meet me and set me right again."

"And you can do wandless magic now," Snape reminded her. "That spell you used to remove yourself from the photos, you collected it in your hand, Miss Granger, and sent it on its path. That is powerful wandless magic. It is the same as the punch you offered last night. If you're expression is a guideline, I presume that it is intuitive as well."

"I didn't know I was doing that!" Hermione exclaimed. "I thought that was only after I punched you! It happened earlier?"

Albus raised his hand at the girl in front of them. "Let's focus on the matter at hand, Miss Granger," he requested with a smile. "Now, are there any other changes?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing I've noticed, sir."

"Excellent," Dumbledore encouraged gently. "Now, any other thoughts on this new development? Have you run any diagnostics on her, Severus?"

He snorted derisively. "I'm not a mediwitch."

Dumbledore took that as an invitation and ran a different wand from his pocket up and down the young woman's body, chanting five or six different spells under her breath. Finally, a few points of colour appeared on Hermione's body inspiring further inspection.

"Hmmm," Dumbledore looked closer at the points on her body. "There's increased activity in the metabolism. Something is different about your brain, Miss Granger, but I presume it is the chemical response to being able to go without sleep based on what I see. Nothing is indicating it is a physical change, meaning there is a high chance it is a magical rather than biological change. Miss Granger, what have you been eating?"

"Normal food," Hermione replied. "Why?"

"Your energy levels are high, but your body is viewing them as rather low," he replied, scanning her up and down. "Like you're missing something vital in your diet, although your nutrient levels are fine. Has anything been more appealing since the change?"

 _Professor Snape,_ Hermione's brain supplied. She shushed her inner devil and shook her head for the Headmaster. "No, sir."

"Perhaps an activity?" he suggested. "If somehow you received a trait from a magical creature, there may be a purpose you are not fulfilling."

She thought on it. Besides her walks with the earth, nothing was really craved. She wanted to be around people more, in general. Even when she was studying, the reason she tolerated people coming in to the library was because she needed their company. It was soothing. The other, stranger thing was she'd find herself wanting more time outside, but that was fairly normal.

"Just fresh air and company, sir," Hermione finally replied. "I can't sleep, so sometimes I come outside or just read, like normal."

He thought for a moment. "Now, the wandless magic. Have you needed to incant for it to have a purpose?"

"She hasn't," Snape replied for her. "We've been working on wordless and wandless for the past few days."

Dumbledore seemed unable to think of anything. Hope flickered uncertainly in her, and she waited for words that made sense for her to spill out.

"I'd like to see if she reacts similarly to each element as she does to earth," Snape supplied. "For example, water. I'm half-tempted to throw Miss Granger into the Black Lake."

"Hey!" She protested, pouting like a child.

"That is most likely not the reason," Dumbledore told Snape patiently. "It is something to do with life or vitality, if I may speculate. Miss Granger, when you stand on the ground as you are, are you feeling the current coming from the earth itself or the grass in between you?"

Hermione focused on the current. Some was actually coming from the grass, but a greater portion was coming from the earth. It was like a million tiny promises. The power was potential, flowing and growing.

"It's both," Hermione replied.

"Intriguing," Dumbledore replied. "How does it feel?"

"Why?" Snape demanded.

Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Severus, I'm sure you were looking for it to be the answer, but if it was, it would have occurred after her indulgent use of it. Time magic and life magic pull from very different essences, Severus, and I cannot see how she would have derived her powers from it. No, that must be nothing more than an unhappy coincidence. I believe this is a magical condition she must have had from birth, which the Trace effectively dampened. I'll look into it from the Ministry's end, shouldn't be too difficult for the Chief Warlock to find the origins of the Trace."

"So what am I, Headmaster?" Hermione asked.

"If I had to classify you this moment, Miss Granger, you would either be a very valuable war asset," he replied happily. "I have no clue what you are, but you are still very much human. Perhaps, when you overused the time-turner those years ago your being changed in some way that was repressed by the self-sufficient nature of the Trace. I will not know until I check with the Ministry and the Book of Admittance.

"Either way," Dumbledore waved dismissively, "I'd say we're on the cusp of discovery for something unrecorded in the annals of history. I will think on the matter, both of you, and devise a series of test so we can eliminate various explanations."

"And what if her abilities bring her the wrong sort of attention?" Snape queried. "And, more to the point, should I mention this to the Dark Lord? She comes out to recharge daily, Albus, and should someone see her she may very well be discovered."

"No, no, Tom must not know about any portion of this," Dumbledore replied immediately. "I do not believe she will garner much attention, but if she does she is experimenting with something for me, and you, Severus, are not privy to it."

Snape nodded his head, accepting his response.

"For now, however," Dumbledore twinkled at her, "one last bit of inquiry. I have had a few Order members come to me with concerns, and I must ask you if you are still comfortable with your arrangement with Severus, my dear."

Hermione nodded so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash, making Dumbledore chuckle. It brought a blush to her features to see the confused look Snape gave her.

"I did not doubt it," Dumbledore said gleefully. "Well then, I'll leave you to it. I believe I have some research to perform, hmmm? Toodles!"

Hermione and Snape exchanged a glance of mutual confusion and Dumbledore turned and went back inside the castle.

"Toodles?" Hermione asked.

"I have no idea where he collects his various odd behaviours," Snape replied. "I am certain he must visit the mental ward at St. Mungo's during the holidays, just so he can recommence term with various new expressions."

Hermione giggled at the thought. Dumbledore, dressed in various colourful ensembles, declaring each babbling and nonsensical sentence to leave patients' lips as profoundly genius. He probably would make them very happy if he did, she mused. Still, it made her smile.

"Put your shoes back on, Miss Granger," Snape ordered. "We must head back in."

"Yes, Master Snape."

"I don't need to tell you to take care on your barefoot voyages when term recommences, do I?" Snape asked.

"No, sir," Hermione replied, following him back into the castle. "Sir, may I ask you something?"

"Perhaps, but it does not guarantee an answer."

Hermione bit her lip. "Did you only take me on because of this magic?"

Snape sneered. "We have discussed your qualifications previously, Miss Granger. Your usefulness as a semi-competent brewer is tantamount to an apprenticeship, and my need for extra hands the reason I considered you at all; strange abilities or no, I would not have you if I didn't need you or if you were to muck up your brews. Try to keep those childish insecurities to yourself from now on."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Master Snape."

He froze, unused to receiving thanks after a dressing down. He nodded stiffly. "You may thank me by finishing your prep work, apprentice. I have no use for empty words."

She was starting to enjoy herself in his snarky company, now that she could see through his pessimistic pretenses. It made her little crush grow to wonder whether he was just being obviously see-through with her. Forcing back her broadening grin, she simply nodded. "Of course, Master."


	15. Chapter 15

**This is a new chapter, added after I'd already posted chapter 25. I've moved all the chapters and they should be in order now, let me know if they seem weird! Thank you!**

Chapter 15

* * *

Since Miss Granger had become his Apprentice, he'd hardly been summoned. His Lord, presumably, wanted him to build up the trust of the young girl and of his supposed Master. He didn't mind the supposition in the least. He'd become quite comfortable with the girl there, and he enjoyed having her in his labs. She was a hard worker as they'd always known, but she had time each night to work on her apprenticeship work and she was becoming a proficient brewer, much to his pride.

His pride was at its highest when she made improvements to the potions recipes. She would prance into his workroom without a hesitation, no fear or worry of her welcome in her face, and present him with notes on what she'd found in her potions studies. Her brilliant mind would instantly refer the notes and research to the potions it applied to and make the necessary leaps. Some of her changes were in his own versions of those advanced potions, and some he had not considered. When she suggested the lunar collection of certain animal parts instead of simply applying the practise to plants, he immediately had the instinct to reject it. Yet, there was no research he could remember, no finding he had found, that could eliminate the possibility. In fact, Miss Granger'd found the only article in the world that could prove that certain animal parts – the example she chose the sphynx, but she said she could see its application with nocturnal beasts like the lunar moth – could be more potent during certain cycles of the moon.

The way Miss Grangers mind made connections was a show he was now on the forefront of. Each potion they brewed, she deconstructed and tried to understand. If something did not measure up, it was altered slightly and, through the failures, she found some truly profound successes. She was nothing shy of a genius, and for the first time in his tenure he did not try to deny it.

An example was present before him. He was set on the syllabi for the upcoming school year, including Miss Granger's, but he had taken to doing his paperwork in the lab so he could be there for her brews. She was just testing today, testing their variation of the Wiggenweld Potion, this time with healing for dark curses. Still, he'd developed a habit of being in the lab when she was. Often he needed to extinguish a massive fire or prevent an explosion. The first time, he'd been unforgiving, he recalled.

* * *

 _An explosion shook the entire dungeon through, driving Snape from his office like a bolt of lightning to his lab. The door was still intact, but when he opened it he was not pleased with what he saw._

 _Pieces of cauldron were sticking through his ingredients cupboards, although it looked like they'd held to specification. He'd never tested them against a potions explosion, but it was pleasing to know they could withstand. A mixed green goo covered most of his workbench, including several valuable ingredients he'd kill Granger for, but he focused on the prone figure of Miss Granger against the wall, a piece of shrapnel stuck to her leg and an unknown potion covering only that offending leg. Apparently Miss Granger had attempted to shield, because the rest of her was unscathed and clean._

 _He hurried to her side and touched the potion, fully aware it could have knocked her out but needing to analyze it to understand the damage. It wasn't acidic, and it appeared stable. A derivative of the Girding Potion she was supposed to be brewing for a the GMG, German Midwive's Guild._

 _He let out a breath he'd been holding. Of course, she'd replace the fire salamander blood with cherufe mucus. She underestimated the extra potency and additional properties of the mucus. It was now a useless brew, but safe enough now that it had expelled the excess energy. With that assurance, he scourgified the main mess from Hermione's incapacitated body before turning his attention to her wounded leg. He propped her up in his arms and felt how cold her body was, and the slight tremors from head to foot. She was in shock._

 _She needed to be moved, and warmed. But her leg needed healing first, as it would not heal if the shrapnel wasn't taken out. He'd need to remove it. There was no time to get the proper supplies, so he wrapped his fingers around the copper spike and pulled, just glad she was unconscious for this or she would have passed out._

 _The blood gushed from her wound now that obstruction was removed, so he worked quickly. A quick incarcerous to her limb to stop the blood loss, tergeo to clean it, and then he summoned calming draught and dittany from his cupboard. It would leave a small scar, but it was the most that could be done. She was lucky to have been at Hogwarts – had she been alone in some lab, far away from aid, she may have died from shock or blood loss._

 _When her body calmed its involuntary shudders, and the wound hissed closed, he hefted his light apprentice into his arms. Her quarters were too far, so she would make do on the couch where he could observe her. A selfish man to refuse the wounded girl his bed, but he would not survive any questions regarding the, er,_ decorations _in his quarters._

 _The couch it was. He grabbed the rolled up blanket and used it to prop up the girl's head, surprising himself with his actions when he pulled off his woolen frock coat to serve as the real blanket. The girl would warm up eventually now that the calming draught was working through her system._

 _Satisfied that the girl would rest until her body healed itself, he returned to the lab to restore order. Afterwards, he sat at his desk, eyeing the girl every few minutes over his reading to ensure she stayed breathing._

 _For four hours, she did not move. He was a patient man, he thought, but it was extremely aggravating to sit in wait, unable to go to his lab and brew or otherwise use his time. Reading normally worked in such situations, but his focus was not on the text but the girl, laying prone on his sofa._

 _Finally, a stir. He grabbed a blood replenisher and some of Minerva's hideous flavoured mead; it would help with the pain without mixing potions in her stomach._

 _"_ _Ow," he heard her breathe into the blanket. "What … why does my leg hurt?"_

 _"_ _It's still healing," Snape said, dropping to his knees in front of her makeshift bed. "Although it's much more like a bruise than the stab wound you were sporting before. Here, drink."_

 _He handed her the blood replenisher and she took it without question. Didn't the girl check, make sure she wasn't being poisoned before downing strangers potions? Snape shook his head, bewildered by her trusting nature._

 _"_ _Well?" Severus prodded. "You nearly got yourself blown up because you chose to experiment with ingredients – without my permission, might I add – and I want to know why. What were you thinking, girl?"_

 _She groaned. "Why do your potions always taste terrible?"_

 _"_ _Answer me!" he ordered._

 _"_ _The mucus is more humanely harvested," she said softly, struggling to sit up. "Each girding potion uses a liter of fire salamander blood, which is about five salamanders. I was trying to find a better option."_

 _Severus was glaring disbelievingly. "Are you serious? Miss Granger, you nearly blew up my lab, and nearly four dozen valuable and rare ingredients, because you're trying to protect a few fire salamanders?!"_

 _Hermione's brown eyes now opened and looked at him, wide and dilated as she blinked herself awake now. Her innocence was obvious when she looked at him._

 _"_ _No, no, I just … I wanted to make the potion more friendly," she defended herself. "The mucus gets harvested, and is in just as much supply as the blood."_

 _"_ _Yet, if you had come to me with your little theory, I would have told you that the mucus is more potent than the fire salamander blood, and also reacts badly to the introduction of blood orchid seeds! I am your MASTER! You blew up a cauldron so violently it would have killed you, and it could have been prevented if you had simply swallowed your pride and ASKED!"_

 _"_ _Would you have told me about the interaction with the blood orchid, or would you just have yelled and told me I was a stupid little girl?" Hermione demanded, pulling herself up with a hiss. "You don't want me to be a valuable Master potioneer, you just want a good student who follows your instructions. Well, you shouldn't have given me so much to read because I'm thinking on my own now! And I want to know about the combinations of ingredients, why certain wand movements in the liquid work. Why we can't make those movements after certain ingredients, or why we always prepare the water base with three hourglass shaped stirs. I want to LEARN!"_

 _Her passionate little speech stirred in him the remembrance of Lily. She had joined him for much of his brewing as a student, adding her own contributions and researching with him. Most of the modifications in the text were found when they both brewed together. She sparked the passion in him for the subject, and now Hermione had the same spark, the same demand for learning. And it hurt._

 _"_ _Get out," he murmured, handing her the shot glass of mead. "Drink this, and leave."_

 _He climbed to his feet, shaking with restrained tears. He would go to his lab now, brew something to take his mind off the connection he'd now forever associate with the girl. Lily's lost potential._

 _"_ _Sir," Hermione climbed up after him, "please, I didn't mean-"_

 _"_ _Get OUT!" he roared._

* * *

 _The next day, she returned. She didn't cower in her staff quarters, neither did she go to the Headmaster or the mutt to decry his treatment of her. She returned, put a fire under the cauldron, and restarted the Girding Potion with the fire salamander blood, making no substitutions or changes. She even let the potion turn brown instead of remaining gold because she was keeping the time exactly as his recipe dictated._

 _He stood and watched. Watched her passive aggressive actions, her fiery refusal to be what he wanted of her. And yet, he did not stop her from ruining the complex brew, and neither did he intervene when he saw the brew stew for just a few seconds too long. He simply watched her: her hair grew frizzier when she brewed so she braided it back, her face was fresh and clean with no makeup, her eyes were anything but cool and fresh but warm and deep, and her face became flushed at first but then settled to a light blush._

 _Lily's eyes had been fresh and green, but weren't as deep as the girl before him. Her hair never got in the way of a brew or her sight, and if it did a simple headband was employed so she could keep her hair long and waving around, enticing. He knew she had done it intentionally, but it only added to her allure. Miss Granger never tried to be alluring, only practical. No makeup like Lily, no glamour charms or hair potions. Her face didn't go red as a tomato when she brewed, looking like she would pass out, but was healthy and beautiful._

Beautiful. _Snape shook off the thought. He'd been determined to find every difference between the girl and his childhood crush, but he was not supposed to find her beautiful._

 _"_ _You've made your point, Apprentice," he said, interrupting his own thoughts. Granger nearly jumped in her seat at his sudden speech. "Making a half-passible Girding Potion because you want to make a point will not impress my buyers in Germany and certainly does not impress me. You will start again. And this time … I will take you through the theory while you do."_

 _Her eyes widened and the most brilliant smile spread across her face. "You'll teach me? Really teach me?"_

 _"_ _Anything you like."_

* * *

"And … that's the last one," Hermione beamed up at him, her excitement palpable. "Our variation, the new recipe, whatever you call it, it works!"

She celebrated with a giant hug, taking him by surprise. Still, it was not unwelcome.

"Oh!" she pulled away. "I'm sorry, sir. "

He shrugged, trying not to upset himself before she was crushed. "We cannot publish it."

"Oh, of course," Hermione nodded sadly. "It's not like it's a new healing potion. It's just our special modification, like the ones in your old textbook."

"True," Severus smirked at her, "but I was more thinking of the Dark Lord and how I do not want to end up his whipping boy because you pestered me into teaching you."

Normally, the girl would have frowned and apologized for putting him in danger, but it was a testament to how well she'd become accustomed to him because she saw the joke for what it was and smiled gloriously up at him with her perfectly straight, pearly-white teeth.

"We wouldn't want that," she joked right back.

For once, he was pleased with another person being in his quarters. It had become comfortable and even, dare he say, pleasant to be with the witch. She was quite lovely …

 _No._ He was not allowed to think like this. Perhaps he needed to see Albus about limiting the time he spent with the girl.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

* * *

Dumbledore. Severus couldn't help but sigh at the thought of the old wizard. He had gone to the old man with his concerns about the young witch, and his solution? Risk the girl's addiction once more and get additional people in to train her. He would still see the witch every day, but Miss Granger would have two or three days in between. Apparently the old man didn't care about Severus' unwanted feelings.

* * *

 _"I cannot keep teaching her," Severus insisted._

 _The old man was simply grinning at him from behind his desk. "Severus, it is not inappropriate to find a young woman attractive, you know. She may even return your affections."_

 _Severus glared. "It is not appropriate. I'm not one of those lecherous Masters who bed their apprentices! I am a professional."_

 _"Then what is the issue with continuing her apprenticeship?" Dumbledore asked. "If you're determined to keep your relationship with the witch professional, there should be no issue."_

 _"I'm not asking to end her contract," Severus said. "The Dark Lord would end my life before the end of that day if I did so. I simply need you to give her a task, something to spend her time on away from me."_

 _Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously as produced a small velvet case. "As a matter of fact, I'd already been thinking of ways to improve Miss Granger's apprenticeship."_

* * *

Snape fingered the box in his hand lightly. How very easy it would be to keep it for himself. How tempting. He would save lives, from the Dark Lord and his followers, and he would do so much good. But no; to be used for a purpose other than study – to actually meddle with events – was enough to drive many a wizard more sage and wizened than himself completely mad with either paradoxes or guilt. They'd be trapped in their mind before long, as the time magic attempted to reconcile each line created into one body.

Besides, he already felt too old in his body. Chances are he wouldn't outlive the war, thus rendering the excuse of wanting to live his life completely and utterly useless, but he stubbornly wanted to be enough without the aid of a Time Turner. He wanted to be enough help to the effort without cheating.

Why had Dumbledore even given him the silly thing? He was basically giving an addict another fix, and he knew it. But no, Dumbledore insisted that Miss Granger could handle the additional responsibility once again, claiming she could abuse and still remain sane and healthy, so why couldn't she use it under Snape's watchful eye? Snape had openly scoffed at that logic. Clearly Dumbledore wanted to test her, see if the time-turner use had at all affected her powers or if it would affect them now, and he was using her Defense studies with him to justify it.

Still . . . it was war. Of course she should learn everything while she can, before Voldemort himself comes-a-calling. And if she should fail, he was the one who was supposed to be teaching her. It would be his fault. Another pretty little muggle born witch on his conscience.

No, he refused to compare the little witch to Lily. That part of his history was done, and if he continued to use it as a measuring stick he would never escape the guilt. The years of service to Dumbledore, the spying . . . he may still be making his penance, but it was no longer for her. It was for him. He needed to finally be the kind of man he couldn't be in his youth. He needed to be a good man.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a knock on the door. "Enter."

The curly-haired wonder popped her head in quickly before deciding it was safe and entering. The action made him frown every time. He did not want his own apprentice to fear him. She came to stand before him, a smile on her face contrasting Snape's own self-loathing sneer.

"What are we doing today?" Miss Granger asked him. "Do we have any new orders? Any fresh supplies you need me to dissect?"

So enthusiastic. And still wearing those muggle clothes. He knew for a fact that she had received her new attire – her delivery that day had overburdened several owls – but she was insisting that the day she wears her new clothes is the first day of term, and that he wouldn't see them until classes. He didn't know why he wanted to see them – probably something about making sure she was appropriately attired, if he was forced to make something up – but she would wear those too tight muggle clothes every day. Her tops ranged from nearly see-through to thin enough to show every muscle tightening and flexing while she brewed. Then there were those tight pants that seemed to accentuate her curvaceous rump . . . Ridiculous girl, didn't she realize that every hot-blooded male would hound her for wearing what she did? He was lucky none of those males knew she was of age. She wouldn't know how to handle their attentions.

"Patience, little apprentice," Snape admonished, standing. "Before we begin anything, we need to have a conversation."

The girl's enthusiasm was curbed by the threat of a one-on-one, probably for criticism or censure in her mind. He motioned for her to sit.

"I wish to discuss your use of the time-turner," Snape told her. No sense in giving it to her if she wouldn't use it. "Start with the feeling you had while you were using it."

She looked uncomfortable under his gaze, and he nodded at that. She was at least sensible enough to know her own failure at restraint. Perhaps he would give it to her.

"It was a strange magic," Miss Granger started finally. "It would course through you completely, a lot like my magic now. It was a bit of a rush. I took to using the full turn-back measure to get the highest kick."

"You regularly went back the full 24 hours?" Snape responded with a quirked brow.

"Yes sir," she replied anxiously. "So it was really addictive and bad by the end of the year when I turned it in to Professor McGonagall."

"How long did you have the magical withdrawal?" Snape queried.

Hermione sighed. "26 days, I think. It was a month before I could remember a day without a headache or being tired."

"But then, you were only using muggle remedies, correct?"

She nodded. Good. This time would be different. "I'm sure if I had some pain potions and restorative draughts, it would have gone down a ton. I really wish I'd had my powers back then, because a walk might have cleared it all up instantly. It seems to heal anything, even if I catch a cold. May I ask what this is about, sir?"

Snape picked up the box from his desk and presented it to her. Her eyes went wide, both from fear and disbelief. She opened it to reveal the golden charm, the time-turner, nestled into the velvet carefully.

"Headmaster Dumbledore decided we need to speed up your studies prior to the commencement of term," Snape informed her, "your defensive practice especially. As your next Defense instructor will be useless if not completely harmful, the Headmaster is in the process of bringing both Alastor Moody and Bill Weasley to Hogwarts to work with you. You may even work with Dumbledore himself on occasion. They will be given rooms on opposite sides of the school, and they will be informed of your time-turner use. We are expecting you to spend a full day's instruction with each of us for the duration of the remaining two months of summer, another day's worth of work on assignments from each of us, another rotation completely on physical fitness, a final rotation on assigned readings.

"You will age rapidly," he warned her. "We're expecting you to spend about five days for every one, so you may very well age another year before term recommences."

"But that's more than I used it my third year!" Hermione protested. "That's dangerous!"

"No," Snape said firmly. "I would not allow you to be placed in any form of danger, Miss Granger. You will go back no further than 12 hour increments to help avoid your unfortunate addiction, and when you are required to return the time-turner at the end of summer holidays, I will be taking care of you personally to ensure your full recovery. If at any point you no longer wish to continue, if you feel yourself slipping, I will evaluate you and if the danger is there, I will remove you from instruction and help you recover."

"How did Dumbledore even get this?" Hermione asked. "The Ministry still hates him."

"But not all of the members therein do," Snape answered patiently. "The unspeakables are the ones with access to time-turners, and he has many friends there from years of sharing knowledge and answering their queries. They approved him before anyone else could blink."

Snape turned to his desk and sat down, trying to look intimidatingly annoyed. "Now, are you going to put it on, or shall I return it to the Headmaster with your regrets?"

She hesitated before him, and he could see her fear in her eyes. Not of the time-turner, but of her own self-discipline. She was afraid of making the same mistakes. She couldn't see what he could, the brilliant witch he'd chosen for an apprentice, and it was hurting her.

"I don't know if I can do this," she admitted , locking her deep brown eyes with his.

He would get her to stop this self-doubt. Rising from his seat, he extended his hand for the box. She handed it over in relief, not realizing his plan.

"Since you seem incapable of fastening it yourself," he drawled, taking the charm from its holder, "turn around."

Her eyes widened, but she obeyed his direct order. She moved her hair out of his way as he went to clasp it around her neck, much like his insignia. This one landed just below the peaks of her breasts, and he shuddered slightly as his cold hands brushed her warm neck.

"Now look at me," he rasped, hoping that a look at her face would quell the influx of emotion. It didn't. "Miss Granger, you have my every confidence. More importantly, you have my respect. Do not let me hear you put yourself down again, or there will be consequences."

Hermione's eyes widened. "But sir, I wasn't trying to. I just think I might lose control and get addicted again."'

Snape grinned. First lesson it was, then. He waved his wand and a sack of Horklumps found its way to her workstation.

"Your first punishment, apprentice," Snape smirked. "I want you to properly juice and cure the Horklumps, for even implying that you are weak. Go."

* * *

Hermione spent the next two months learning many years' worth of instruction. Alastor Moody was not a dueler, he was a skirmisher. He would have her knocked on her back quicker than Snape and less expectedly. She'd be entering the classroom and he'd deck her. She'd be getting a new quill and he'd send a stunner. Her reflexes improved rapidly, although Snape had to threaten Moody several time to use non-lethals on her when she finally was able to shield him on cue.

Bill was actually teaching her about curse breaking, warding, and shielding. The runic rituals and ritual spells required for warding were fascinating, and she borrowed book after book from him on the subject. The curse breaking was good as well, although it was difficult. Lifting curses from dark objects, or identifying the fundamental signs of curses on things, even getting through cursed obstacle courses unscathed. He told her that if she were to ever go to Malfoy Mansion or another dark place, she might need to know how to break the curses and escape.

Snape gave her brief instruction on physical fitness and fighting each morning, proceeded to teach her in potions for the bulk of the day, following that with a duel. She liked her time with him immensely. She felt incredibly sexy in her dragonhide boots, and he never let her be anything less than confident. If she was, he would punish her. She called her hair ugly one day and earned a whole basket of flobberworms to dissect and squeeze the mucus from. When he finished for the day, he insisted on escorting her outside to recharge herself before sending her off on her next rotation.

Sometimes, that would mean Dumbledore. He'd talk to her for the most part, ask about her powers. He kept his strange death stick hidden from her whenever this occurred, and for that she was grateful. It helped her relax into seeing him again like the wizened wizard he was. He would go over things specific to Voldemort, reinforcing the image of soulless monster she currently had. Some days he'd present her with books, either loaners or gifts, detailing different strange magics that she hadn't yet heard of. Her favourite was craft magic, and its various subsets. She was given books on creating books for crying out loud! Magical bookbinding, broom-making, smithing, sewing, construction, homemaking, and the creation of magical gems and artifacts all made their way into her conversations. Those were the subjects he preffered to give her texts for, and she was laden with reference guides and magic books allowing her to craft ingenious items.

He gave her a leather satchel the size of one regular book, and then gave her instructions on how to place an undetectable extension charm. She used the other skills she knew to embroider a rune into the bag for protection, so others couldn't touch it. A magical gem of her creation was placed on the fastener for the bag, a little cache of extra power in case she ever drained herself and needed to draw from it.

He gave her unrestricted access to the forges of Hogwarts, the same that had been used by the Founders. Whenever she needed more materials (she seemed to go through a lot of leather) he gave it to her without reservation. She spent a few extra rotations just doing trial-and-error smithing, attempting to make armor. She managed to make a few wand holsters first, happily. She would give them to Ron and Harry at the beginning of the school year.

Then she'd exercise herself and her magic alone in the practice room Snape had set aside for her, learning on her own how to apply many of the lessons she had been taught the previous two and a half days. Sometimes she repeated that rotation twice or three times if she got so absorbed by the magic she'd avoided her exercise. Another twist for assignments and homework from the previous day. From Snape it would be a paper, from Bill it was an object he created or brought for her to break the curse on, and from Moody it was five or six spells he thought were useful as an Auror that he wanted her to master before the next lesson. After a final twist, she would retire to her room and read well into the night, before starting the next day back in Moody's classroom.

Then, a week before term resumed, she was in the middle of instruction with Moody when she started getting dizzy.

"Granger, focus!" Moody growled, launching another spell at her.

She barely deflected it. She stumbled backwards, he breath getting shallow. Landing on her knees before Moody was only a good idea if you were dying and wanted a swift end, but to be fair, she felt like she was dying.

"Get . . . Snape," Hermione whimpered.

If this had to do with time magic, Snape would help her. If it had to do with her new powers, he'd bring her outside and help her. If she was sick, he'd be able to provide her with potions. Those were the explanations she'd give afterwards. At that moment, she just wanted her mentor and tentative friend to tell her she'd be ok.

Moody shot off a Patronus quickly, before bending down to her side. His eyes was whizzing over her, making her even dizzier. The wave of nausea hit her and she released a wave of magic that topple over every desk and the chalkboard.

"Granger, you're emitting more magic than an obscurial! What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she whimpered. "Help."

Moody started casting diagnostic charms on her, but the feeling just kept getting worse. It was tearing her inside out. She kicked off her shoes, trying to gain some extra help. That made the feeling next to unbearable. Everything was tearing her apart.

"Miss Granger!"

Snape rushed into the room quickly, dropping to his knees next to her.

"Has this happened before?" Snape barked, taking her into his arms. His proximity soothed her slightly, and her magic quieted just enough that she could open her eyes to see his worried visage. "Has it?"

"No," Hermione whimpered. "Help."

"Moody, call Poppy," he ordered. "Tell her we're coming."

He lifted her up quickly and ran her through the corridors.

"You'll be fine, Hermione, you'll be fine," he breathed, clearly expending come effort to speak and run with her at the same time.

She whimpered and held onto his chest, trying hard to block out the pain that was crashing through her body like waves in a monsoon. Being barefoot hadn't helped, and this feeling was disturbingly similar and yet grossly more intense than when she had first come into her new powers. Like she was suffocating and burning alive at the same time.

"Poppy!" Snape yelled, carrying her into the room. "Poppy!"

"Severus, put her down!" the matron ordered.

He released her onto the bed, and she whimpered. The pain returned full force. She reached out and grabbed his hand tightly, refusing to let go.

"It helps, please," Hermione begged, closing her eyes.

She didn't see Snape's nod, but he didn't let her go and that was enough for that moment.

Poppy bustled around, asking questions. So far all they knew was she was emitting magic violently, was calmed by Snape, and that she was in pain. When Snape asked if she wanted to go outside, she shook her head and let him know it was only making it worse. That brought a severe crease to his forehead that Hermione wanted to smooth. _What was going on with her?_

Madame Pomphrey shoved a pain potion to her lips, probably the only thing she could do. It was ineffective. Hermione held onto Snape's hand for dear life, not daring to let go for a second should the pain increase in strength again.

Dumbledore had been informed by Moody of Hermione's plight, and came to the hospital wing. She closed her eyes, but she could still hear him speaking with Snape.

"She's in pain, Albus," Snape whispered. "I don't think I'm helping."

Hermione whimpered and clutched his hand tighter.

"It seems she disagrees," Dumbledore said simply. "What brought you to that conclusion?"

"I feel like I'm taking some of her magic," Severus replied. "It's coursing through me even now."

"Interesting."

"Damn it, Albus, she's in pain!" Snape snapped. "Stop thinking it's so damn interesting and help her!"

"She does have too much magic coming off of her, Severus," Dumbledore pointed out politely. "Perhaps you're helping more than Poppy is by taking some of it from her."

Snape gritted his teeth. "Why don't you try, then?"

"Perhaps Poppy would be better," was Dumbledore's reply. Poppy's hand came to Hermione's but it wasn't relieving anything. Hermione shook her head, keeping her eyes shut.

"Seems to be you, Severus," Dumbledore observed. "Perhaps due to her apprenticeship?"

"Or perhaps its males in general," Severus also pointed out. "Try, Albus, or I shall have Mr. Weasley join us."

"Very well."

Once again, another set of hands came to touch her, but there was no help. And once again, Hermione shook her head.

"Just you, Severus."

"Miss Granger," Snape addressed her now, leaning close, "we need to figure out how to fix this quickly. I cannot be here tonight, as the Dark Lord wishes to see me. I don't want to leave you in this state, but in a few hours I may be forced to. If there's anything you know about this, we need to know now."

"I don't know," she whimpered helplessly. "I'm so sorry."

"I have a question, my dear," Dumbledore said. "How long have you felt attached to Severus, here?"

"Albus!" Snape hissed.

The Headmaster waved him off. "If it was before today, it is relevant, Severus."

Hermione didn't want to answer. She shook her head.

"Miss Granger, I need a response," Dumbledore insisted. "It will remain between us in this room."

Hermione swallowed thickly. "Since he offered to help me," she whispered.

"Nearly immediately after you became of age, correct?" Dumbledore asserted. "That is very good, Miss Granger, very good indeed. I believe I may know what ails you."

"Then speak, Albus!" Severus roared.

"I believe she is a link witch," Dumbledore explained. "Last one I remember was Hanna Lleonelin, a halfblood who attended Hogwarts some 70 years ago. Now Hanna, and other witches and wizards like her, would find companions in muggles and share their magic with them. Should they prove unworthy of her she would move on and find another and another, as her magic would reject them and they would cease to be helpful. I believe muggles used to believe in a creature called Leanan Sidhe or a Xana, sometimes believing them to be vampires or monsters because the muggles tended to find themselves dead after she left. Don't you worry Miss Granger, it's no curse. It's simply a gift; a witch or wizard with a surplus of magical energy, providing it to another. It is said Vincent van Gogh was in love with such a woman, and in a determination to win her back cut off his own ear. She was his inspiration to paint."

"Enough, Albus!" Snape snapped. "We don't need stories. If this is even to be believed, which I assure you I do not, how would we heal Miss Granger?"

"Ah, it's just the transformation," Dumbledore explained happily. "From what I've noticed of her time-turner use, she should be on the brink of turning eighteen today. If my guess is correct, over the next 24 hours she will undergo a painful physical transformation and greet us tomorrow as a more magically adept, more beautiful woman. The theory is that they undergo transformations at this time so they can handle ore magic in their cores, and so they have no problem finding men to share their power with."

"I'll be beautiful?" Hermione asked weakly. "That's almost worth it."

That brought a chuckle from the surrounding adults. Snape leaned closer. "I hope you were not just insulting yourself, Miss Granger. You know I would punish you if you were."

Hermione's heart warmed at her potion's master. At least he hadn't been put off by the Headmaster's declaration.

Her took a potion from the side table and uncorked it for her. "Dreamless sleep, Miss Granger. I hope this one works. Sounds like you have a long night ahead."

She downed it quickly and felt the effects instantly. She sighed in relief and closed her eyes against the world.

"What does it mean for Severus?" Poppy asked the Headmaster.

"Poppy, he has yet to be proven right," Severus grumbled. "Don't humiliate my apprentice further."

"But what would it mean, Albus?"

"There is always choice," Dumbledore told her, ignoring the gruff Potion's Master. Hermione heard little more than fazed speech and then the world went dark.

* * *

"There is always choice," Dumbledore said, ignoring him. Snape was glaring at him from his periphery. "It is not a situation where it is a mate for life. However, from the diaries and stories we have of other link witches and wizards, should their choice reject them, they would follow them forever to protect them from any who would cause them harm."

"That's so romantic!" Poppy cried, dabbing her eyes.

"It is pain," Snape warned her quickly. "There is no pain as terrible as unrequited love, Poppy, so I'll kindly ask you not doom your charge to that fate."

He looked down on Miss Granger. She was finally asleep, finally pain-free. He refused to consider the possibility of the girl choosing him to gift herself to. She would not be so foolish. He took his hand from hers and laid it carefully on the bed next to her.

"Surely it doesn't need to be romantic affection?" Snape asked Dumbledore. "She merely said she was attached to me, nothing more. I myself do feel a certain attachment as well for the girl, but I cannot and will not have a relationship with a girl who is barely of age and my apprentice. Surely she does not want this. It would be inappropriate, and I have at least a dozen other officials in black who would agree."

"Ah, Severus, there is always a reason for things," Dumbedore intoned. "Miss Granger has some affection for you, it's not the end of the world. Accept her affection as it is, a high regard and appeal towards a man who has given her and others so much. You needn't take advantage of it, merely accept it."

Dumbledore turned to walk from the Hospital Wing. "I'll leave you to make your decision."

And then there was only him, Poppy Pomphrey, and the girl. He looked down at her pale face, her soft curls splayed over the pillow in a halo of innocence. He was thinking about how terrified he'd been at Mad-Eye's patronus, how warm she'd felt pressed against him as he ran her up to Poppy. She was so small, he'd barely strained to lift her. So fragile.

He remained, sitting at her bedside. He watched as her hair started getting darker, turning from light brown to chestnut in the span of a half hour. Her kinks turned to delicate curls, and her lips turned even more red. Dumbledore was right; she was going through a physical transformation.

"If I accept, she binds herself to me," Snape considered aloud, "and if I refuse, I doom her to follow after me. Neither option I would wish on a witch of any age, let alone her."

"Poppycock," Madame Pomphrey scolded gently. She approached the table with a glass of water for Hermione when she awoke and a cloth to rest across her feverish head. "It has nothing to do with that. You have to decide if you even care for the girl in that way."

"She is my apprentice," Snape snapped.

"Apprentices often have affairs with their Masters." Poppy shrugged. "When you're both passionate about similar subjects and you spend a great deal of time together, feelings develop. She's a bright girl, you can't tell me you don't appreciate that."

" _GIRL_ ," Snape repeated. He was avoiding the feeling of hope that was rising in him. "I'm 15 years her senior, Poppy. It would be wrong to look at her in that way."

"Tell that to Minerva," Poppy laughed. "She still thinks Dumbledore is as handsome as they come, and he's 80 years her senior."

"She was my student."

"So were most girls under 35 in Britain. The key is not what she is now, but whether you can see her as more than that," Poppy encouraged gently, her matronly eyes twinkling. "You may not be shallow, Severus, but she is a lovely girl. I'm sure you've noticed."

He had noticed, and that's what made him unworthy to touch.

"No one here would judge you, Severus," Poppy whispered. Her eyes were bright with compassion. "You've never been a lecher, and you deserve some happiness."

"I have to consider her safety, beyond anything," Snape sighed. "If – IF – I were considering accepting her, Poppy, it would need to remain secret. Anyone knowing could put her at risk. If it ever got back to him what she was, that she'd bound herself to me . . . it may even be worse if I reject her."

"Don't believe in legends," Poppy told him. "I'm sure whichever choice you make won't harm her like that."

Snape sighed. "You heard what he said. Perhaps the best choice is to accept her, and then prove myself unworthy. Sabotage it. Send her running."

"Or you could give the girl a chance," Poppy said happily. "Pretend she's a normal witch who fancies you, and you her. Take her out to dinner, spend some time getting to know her, date her . . . perhaps it will work out."

"And who said I _fancied_ Miss Granger?" Snape cocked his infamous brow.

"Oh, don't give me that look, Severus Snape," Poppy laughed, pulling up a seat next to the potions master. "You've been trying that on me since you came in here at eleven with a split lip. Nobody said you fancied her, but I think you could."

 _How right you are, Poppy._ Snape snorted in his head.

"Just give her a chance," Poppy said. "It'll work itself out in the end."

With that, the two friends moved to friendlier topics like potions, the upcoming school year, and the latest teachers' pool regarding the Weasley brother's first prank of the year. Highest odds were something during either the opening feast, or in the dorm room to a mate they hadn't seen all year.

When Snape was called away for a night at Malfoy Manor, he took a final look at the girl. Over the course of a few hours, she had become even more beautiful. She was still deep in her dreamless sleep, and thankfully no longer in pain. He brushed his hand over a single curl, still shocked when the simple touch brought magic racing up to meet him. Why couldn't they have met ten years ago? Why was his life so complicated?


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

* * *

Hermione was sure she was dreaming. She was laying, eyes closed, on a bed with a hand holding hers. She could feel the magic seeping to the person, and it felt so _right._ Her magic was happy and well within her control just at the touch of this person's hand. She knew, in her heart, it had to be Master Snape, but refused to think on it. She lay there for a minute unmoving, scared to chase of the person bringing her such bliss.

It was involuntary when her eyes flinched open to the sound of rushing water. Her eyes heavy and far too sensitive to the dull light of the hospital wing for her to keep them open long enough to see the source of the noise. It was strange, as if her eyes were in high definition. She opened them a slit, preparing for the onslaught to her senses, and was eternally glad she had. She could see each strand of flame from the burning lamps on the walls, the shifted and danced and wove with the other strands of flame.

Her eyes moved to look to the person beside her. Their head was bowed low, but their hand was still in their despite their obvious need for sleep. The curtain of black hair was enough. Master Snape had stayed with her. He had kept her in hand. Her heart warmed involuntarily, but she felt the involuntary blush of embarrassment come over her as she worried. She clearly wasn't at her best. Had she drooled? Had he seen?

Her embarrassment was brief as she took in his position next to her. She noticed automatically the uncomfortable arch of his neck from how he'd slept with her hand in his, the tired bags under his eyes, the pucker of a frown marring his face even in sleep, and wanted to fix it. A surge of protectiveness rolled over her. It was strange, but in that moment Hermione knew her crush on the professor was worth more than that label. He was not a crush. She loved him. It was strange, instinctual, and confident, her love of him. Like her body was programmed to.

She wrapped her magic around him gently, enjoying the feeling of him touching her magic, before lifting him from his chair. She moved his body over to the next bed in the infirmary before laying him down and tucking him in. Her magic refused to withdraw from him, making Hermione frown. It didn't think Snape was safe. Perhaps if he was closer. . . she dragged the bed closer to her, close enough for them to once again hold hands but far enough that there was a gap between their beds for propriety. With a sort of psychic nod of approval from her magic, she gladly succumbed back to her blissful rest.

* * *

The next time Hermione woke up, she was alone and her fatigue was gone. The bed next to her was empty. Her magic started reaching out automatically, searching the Hospital Wing for the man. No other person occupied the wing, but Madame Pomphrey's office held a group of people. She sifted through the magic they were emitting . . . there. Snape was in Madame Pomphrey's office, talking with a two others. She wanted to go to him, she wanted to wrap him in her magic again.

Hermione moved off the bed, not the slightest bit uncertain on her feet. She was in a hospital gown, though, and it made her shuffle awkwardly to avoid exposing herself. She held the hem down with both hands and made her way to the office.

Hermione heard voices raised, and felt Snape's magic project a little in his distress. Not powerfully enough to do any harm, but enough that the other occupants might notice and definitely enough that Hermione felt uneasy at him being in such distress. She pressed her ear to the door, trying to hear what was going on.

"It was inappropriate!" That was Snape.

"I swear to you, Severus, I had nothing to do with it. Perhaps Miss Granger-"

"Is right outside the door?" The calm grandfatherly voice of Dumbledore said.

The door swung open in front of her, and she blushed at the glare coming from her Potion's Master. Madame Pomphrey and Dumbledore were both seated around the desk, but Professor Snape was standing and bearing down on the both of them.

"Sorry for eavesdropping," Hermione apologized. "I just … er, well, you see, I heard Master Snape was upset."

Professor Snape must have barely gotten up from the bed. His hair was mussed, his clothes wrinkled, and he had an imprint on his face from the sheets. It made Hermione smile to see him like that. Her magic had instantly gone to him once she entered the room, and now was wrapped around him affectionately. It was involuntary, but Hermione still blushed when she saw Snape's shocked expression. He had noticed.

"Perhaps you can help us with that, Miss Granger," Madame Pomphrey said authouritatively. "Did you awaken at any point last night?"

She nodded.

"And did you do anything?"

"I-er," she flushed under Snape's gaze, "I just made him comfortable, Madame Pomphrey."

"You placed me in a bed practically against your own?" Snape queried gruffly.

Hermione nodded again. "You were uncomfortable and tired, sir."

"And the reason you deemed fit to keep holding my hand after you had recovered?" Snape snapped.

Hermione looked down at the floor. "My magic likes you."

"Yes, I can feel that," Snape acknowledged. "That does not explain why YOU deemed it necessary."

Hermione would have responded, but her magic distracted her. It was noticing something about Snape. Like his magic was reaching out to hers as well. Odd . . .

"Let the girl be, Severus," Madame Pomphrey interjected. "Not everything is a conscious decision, and even if it is, I won't have you harping on the girl. Clearly some of it is instinctive, isn't it dear?"

"Just the magic," she sort of explained. "It goes to him on its own. But it feels nice, so I haven't tried to stop it."

Dumbledore interjected this time. "So, Severus, can you feel it right now?"

She looked at him. His black eyes littered and pierced her deep to the core. "Yes, it's quite . . . potent."

His word choice made her blush again, although she wasn't sure she had ever stopped. It reminded her of what she'd admitted to Dumbledore last night. His magic again reached out to hers in a caress that she knew had meaning. Like he wasn't opposed to the idea.

"If we could all cease from standing around in silence and address the issue at hand," Snape drawled, his mask of indifference now painted back on.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore turned to her. "Would you like to sit down, Miss Granger? Have some tea?"

"No thank you, sir."

He looked vaguely disappointed, but nodded. "Of course. So, do you remember what I called you last night?"

"A link witch, right?" Hermione remembered.

"Yes, exactly," Dumbledore encouraged. "Although I believe you'll find much more under the name laenan sidhe or xana concerning this. It is a wonderful gift you have, Miss Granger, and a sign of a very powerful magical core, and one very much in tune with the life magic around them. Your body can, of course, contain all the magic and use it all as was the purpose of the transformation last night, however it is more comfortable shared with another. Hence, the link. You've linked yourself magically to another. Usually, it's a muggle because they have no magic and therefore can be used to store more of it, and I have never heard of a wizard being chosen, but evidently that has just happened."

Hermione nodded, her eyes focused on Dumbledore. But her magic seemed to tighten around Snape, as if he were about to run.

"Of course, should you and Severus decide to pursue a relationship, you will meet no resistance from me," Dumbledore announced cheerfully.

"Damn it, Albus!" Snape hissed. "Stop forcing her on me!"

Hermione's heart tore a little. "Would that be necessary?"

Snape paused in his anger towards Dumbledore to look at her, his eyes shrouded and unreadable. "Miss Granger, whatever nonsense the Headmaster may tell you, there is no force on earth that can force you to have feelings for another. Whatever your magic is compelling you to do, it is not going to force us together. You do not need to concern yourself with me."

He was rejecting her, she saw it. His eyes were hesitant to look at her. She had wrecked her apprenticeship with him, her tentative friendship with him, and he couldn't even look at her now. But something was off. Her magic didn't sense a rejection from him. Instead, a welcoming. Like . . . was he lying? Did he want her?

"I think what he's saying is that the link doesn't exist without an inherent attraction, Master," Hermione said defensively. "I apologize if having a buck-toothed rat's nest following you around embarrasses you."

She saw his nostrils flare in anger. "Miss Granger, what have I said about those little comments?"

"They warrant punishment." She would never forget harvesting the flobberworm mucus until she died. But it didn't matter. She was uncomfortable, and her magic was disorienting, and her vision distracting. She was allowed to be irritable.

He glared.

"Impertinent girl," he rumbled. "Yes, I punish you for them, but only because they are lies. I do not tolerate liars as my apprentices. As it happens, Miss Granger, there could not be a man alive who would describe you with anything less than the highest accolades after your transformation last night."

She must have shown her confusion plainly, because he summoned her a small mirror so she could see herself. Her heart nearly stopped.

She was beautiful. Her nose had nearly always been covered in little blackheads, but now she was simple freckled and perfectly fair-skinned. Hair had lost all its frizz, and even though she had just woken up she was treated to a chestnut mane of beautiful and exotic curls all down her back, as it had grown seemingly overnight. Her lips had become fuller, her eyes a little bit darker, her eyelashes fuller . . . she just felt beautiful looking at herself.

"I think," Snape drawled, bring her from her reflection, "that such a lie earns you the privilege of preparing a dozen jars of pickled murtlap tentacles. Do you agree?"

His magic accepted her another fraction at his words. Yes, there was no mistaking it now; he was close to accepting her. He thought she was pretty. He had punished her for insulting herself, at the same time telling her the men around her would sing her praises. He is a man. Indirectly, in his Slytherin way, he was vindicating her. She beamed up him and nodded, her magic squeezing him as if in a hug.

"Don't be too hard on the girl, Severus," Dumbledore interjected. "She just had an unexpected experience. Tell me, Miss Granger, do you feel much different?"

"Besides beautiful?" Hermione murmured, looking at the mirror on more time before setting it on Madame Pomphrey's desk. "My vision's better, or just more sensitive. I feel . . . different in a bunch of ways, I guess. My magic feels more alive than it did before, like it's a part of me like a limb, but also has a mind of its own. My body's center of gravity is different. More . . . it's higher up, but I feel more secure on the ground now."

Madame Pomphrey interjected there.

"Well, that may be a result of your newly, er, enhanced feautures, Miss Granger," she explained, motioning to her body. "I'd say you grew around the chest, and toned up in other areas. That does change things for your body."

"Wait," Hermione stopped her, something occurring to her. "With these changes, with what I am . . . the stories of laenan sidhe call them some sort of seductress and murderer."

"No, dear, just a magically capable witch," Dumbledore assured her. "Those stories are highly sensationalized, my dear, by muggles who cannot explain or understand what happened. I believe that link witches are simply those with close to too much magic for their bodies to handle, and so they find a compatible partner to aid them in controlling it. If the magic rejects them because of a choice, there is a chance the muggles will go into withdrawal, or there's the possibility that whatever caused the link witch to leave them also killed them in the end, but it is never the laenan sidhe's fault. All she does is find someone compatible and provide them with love and companionship."

"Who is sensationalizing now, Albus?" Snape growled to her left.

It stung. Every sneer, every growl, every scowl was stinging because of the affection she had let grow for him over her year-long summer.

Hermione frowned, considering. "Headmaster, you mentioned that there was another link witch less than 70 years ago? Is she still alive? Would she be open to receiving letters from me?"

"Excellent thought, Miss Granger," Dumbledore praised, nodding thoughtfully. "She does not welcome much interaction nowadays, but I think a letter or two may very well warm her spirits. I'll send her your request."

Hermione gave an appreciative bow of her head to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore twinkled. "I am very nearly envious of Severus, my dear. You and your magic are a great honor to whomever they choose. You do him a great service."

"Enough!" Snape snapped, glaring at the Headmaster. "You will stop yourself from embarrassing my apprentice, Albus. Link witch or not, discussion of her _feelings_ are not your concern. I will thank you both for your attention in this matter, but now that she is recovered I will take her from here."

Hermione found herself blushing at the idea of him _taking_ her. Goodness, that was innapropriate, but she couldn't help it. Her magic seemed just as eager as she was for him, because it seemed to become more energized at the thought. She needed to discuss this with him. Even if he rejected her, she wasn't sure her magic would leave him alone. Ever. Especially if he was unconsciously accepting her. But if it was unwilling, Hermione thought she might die at the thought that she was assaulting Master Snape unintentionally. Yes, she needed him aware.

"Headmaster, Madame Pomphrey," she said, "thank you for all your help, but I need to discuss this with my Master now."

"Of course dear," the matron nodded. "You are cleared to leave the infirmary, of course, and you'll find your clothes by your bed."

"Thank you," she murmured, turning away.

"Good luck, Miss Granger!" Dumbledore called. "I will look forward to hearing about your newfound abilities."

She didn't have to check to know Professor Snape had followed her out of the office. Her magic seemed to always want to tell her he was close, as a reassurance for her. Now, however, she was too scared of the conversation they were about to had. She'd all but declared herself in there, and he'd just scowled and sneered and yelled as if it was a personal affront. As if having someone like him was unthinkable.

Hermione grabbed her clothes and pulled the privacy curtain so she could change. Hermione thought on that. Normal men, if a woman they didn't like was interested, would be embarrassed and kindly refuse. They would be flattered, not personally affronted. Hermione thought Snape must have known that at least a few of the Slytherin girls (and most houses, actually) had girls with a strange fascination or even all-out crush on him. He was the youngest professor, and he was always surrounded by dark mystery. Surely he was used to dealing with schoolgirl crushes by now.

Was this how he dealt with them too? Complete rejection, no remorse? How was she going to fare being around him all year with him now knowing her attachment to him?

Snape couldn't even focus on the task at hand. She was changing behind that screen, and waiting for her outside, knowing that, felt oddly intimate. He had nearly lost his composed façade when Miss Granger had walked in in nothing but her hospital gown, her changes making her all but irresistible to his faculties. It didn't help his emotional state that her magic kept moving around him, stroking him and holding him in a way that no one had ever been allowed to do. It was intimate, her magic surrounding him and blending with parts of his.

The secret feelings he'd been suppressing with regards to the girl came back full force. He didn't love her – he wasn't even sure he could – but he _did_ know that her affections were not unwanted. He had been eager to protect her, teach her, and converse with her. She was obviously more mature than her peers, and her intellect showed in stimulating conversation and thoughtful silences. Silences weren't awkward with the girl, not until now when she was forcing him to acknowledge her as a woman.

And now he needed to speak with her alone.

He raked his hand through his hair, a habit he'd avoided since the Dark Lord's return. It too easily gave away his frustration. Where was the balance? Why couldn't he reject the girl and have her only as an apprentice whom he could still harbor his libidinous feelings for without knowing she reciprocated? Why couldn't the Dark Lord have never returned so he could be free to interact with her as he chose?

Miss Granger folded the screen back then, and he averted his eyes from her form. In her hospital gown, it was hard enough to deny the attraction. In her tight, muggle clothing it would be nearly impossible.

"Are you prepared to continue your lessons, Miss Granger?" he asked, not looking at the girl but at the exit.

"I want to talk to you about this first." Her tone brokered no arguments, so he did not disagree. He would discourage her amply, as sure as the sun was still high in the sky.

"My office?"

They walked in peace down to the dungeons. As much as he wanted to reject her, the magic surrounding him relaxed him in way he hadn't been in at least a year. It was a breath of air mixed with a comforting blanket. He wanted to reject her, but he would not be eager for her magic to leave him.

He opened the door to his office for her, letting her enter first and take her seat. He needed to be cold to her. Demanding. And very, very clear. Anything less would get him killed. Anything more would have her hating him, something he couldn't really want.

He strode dramatically to the seat behind his desk before sitting himself and glaring at the girl responsible for the massive upheaval in his life. "Speak."

He say her take a breath, as if scared of her words. Good. Let her be afraid.

"Master," Miss Granger began, "I wanted to thank you for staying at my bedside last night. I know you didn't need to, but I do believe it helped."

Snape nodded curtly, unwilling to respond.

"However, there's more to this situation than gratitude," Hermione said quickly, as if scared by her words. "You know by now I've developed a bit of a crush on you."

Snape willed his reaction to still at her words, avoiding the pounding in his chest with a straight face and a stony look. Time to crush her.

"And it would be best if it did not escalate from there, Miss Granger," he replied, his tone icy. "It is normal for girls your age to be interested in their teachers, but you must know it is not to be reciprocated. I trust this will not interfere in your training, Miss Granger?"

He watched a look of contemplation on her face. Clearly, this was not the response she expected. Of course not. A willing, beautiful girl launches herself at a man not only too old for her but completely unworthy of her affections, what else is there to do but accept. He would not, however, succumb to that temptation.

Then, a knowing smirk graced her shapely lips. "You know, _Master_ ," goodness, that tone was sultry enough to be illegal, "my new magic is really strange. It likes you, that's true, but there's more to it. It's more alive, more communicative. And it's telling me you're lying. You do _reciprocate_."

He was not expecting that.

Forcing a stern look on his face, he glared at her. "You are new to your abilities, Miss Granger. I will forgive your ignorance in this matter."

He didn't like the look of determination that entered the Gryffindor's visage. Of course she wouldn't take no for an answer, that would be too easy. No, she would make his life a living hell for refusing her.

"I can accept that," Miss Granger allowed, "but as with potions, a trial will be necessary to prove the effectiveness of the theory."

"And what trial would you suppose, Miss Granger?" he drawled. "One of time, perhaps?"

"No," she replied unwavering. "I propose the addition of a catalyst. May I?"

Snape didn't like the gleam in her eye. "Perhaps it would be wise to test your abilities in another way, Miss Granger. What catalyst are you proposing?"

She smiled that infuriatingly brilliant smile, the one that made his chest pull together uncomfortably. But she blushed, obviously not completely unashamed of her behavior. "A kiss, of course."

Hermione looked and felt for his reaction. Her magic spiked with the addition of his, showing his affected feelings even if his face remained blank. He wanted a kiss. He wanted to kiss her. Her magic was sure of it.

When he didn't respond, she rose from her seat slowly, intent on approaching him. She watched as he cleared his throat, obviously looking for escape.

"Miss Granger, I'm certain there are more appropriate ways to test your theories," he argued weakly. He was watching her approach with interest that revealed his true feelings. She felt desirable. She felt in control.

"But none as pleasurable," she purred, pointedly licking her lips. She came to the side of his seat, turning it to face her and placing her hands on either armrest, leaning closer. "Tell me you don't want to."

"I don't." His magic spiked at the lie.

"Your magic disagrees."

Hermione couldn't wait another second. Her magic was prompting her forward, bringing her face dangerously close to his. Closing her eyes, she pushed her lips against the Potions Master.

It was . . . magical. His magic spiked amazingly, melding with hers in a euphoric sensation. It was a prickle in her magic, but enough to let her know it was a bonding. The kiss was bonding him to her. He was frozen beneath her lips, but she wasn't about to let him get away with it. She probed and prodded, moved and sucked. It felt so good. Then, like she dreamed, he kissed her back. He took her bottom lip between his, gently kissing her as if she were the most precious thing on the earth. Like he would break her with his response. She climbed on top of his lap, trying to break his self control. He moaned softly against her mouth, and she took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Then, as if that was all he was waiting for, he dropped all semblance of resistance. He wrapped his arms around her, steadying her against him. On hand went behind her head, pulling her closer. The kiss was now one of passion, blowing her mind as she took part in it.

They were there for some time. Finally, Hermione had the will power to separate. She leaned her forehead against his, taking deep, lengthy breaths.

"Tell me again you don't want me."

Snape chuckled underneath her. "As you've proven, that would be a lie."

"Then you'll have me?"

Snape hesitated then, and Hermione bent down to kiss at his ear, his cheek, a place under his jaw. He sighed in contentment, egging her on.

"Tell me you want me."

He sighed. "I want you."

"Tell me you'll have me."

Again, he hesitated. She pressed her lips tenderly to a place behind his ear, and she felt his hands on her waist tightening, as if fighting with him.

"This shouldn't be happening," Snape protested. "You are my student."

"Not anymore," she whispered in his ear. "I'm your apprentice. And I can keep a secret, you know that."

"You should have someone you don't need to do that for," he protested. "If it weren't for your time-turner use, this conversation would never have happened. You are still, by law, only fifteen."

"And by time-turner, I'm eighteen," Hermione reminded him. "I'm technically a year past becoming legal."

"I will not be a lecherous old man, Miss Granger."

Hermione wasn't having that. "Hermione, please."

He hesitated. "If you weren't what you are-"

"I would still have a crush on a handsome, smart professor," Hermione insisted. Their magic was humming together, reassuring her of their bond. Still, each rejection was hurting her more than she'd show. "Please, tell me you'll have me. I need to hear it."

Snape sighed. "It must be hidden. If the Dark Lord were to hear, if the papers were to find out, everything I worked for would be forfeit."

"It'll be just between the two of us," Hermione promised. "Is that a yes? You'll have me?"

His unfathomable eyes buried them in hers, before he moved to press his lips against her. When they separated, he nodded almost imperceptibly. "I will have you, Hermione. I'd be a fool not to."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

* * *

"You're taking me to see them," Hermione insisted, nearly stamping her foot in indignation. "That's the final word on the matter."

It had been just a few days since Snape had accepted her, but with the school year approaching tension was mounting. Bill and Moody were trying to cram in any and all additional information into her sessions, she was triple checking her lesson plans and creating new ones after Severus had agreed to let her teach the second-years as well, and Harry freaking Potter still wasn't responding to her letters. Her anxiety about that final point brought her to the Friday before school began, and the full moon.

"And my word," Snape drawled, adding the heavy dose of aconite to the Wolfsbane, "is NO. I will not subject myself to asking Black to put you up for the night, nor will I escort you to his hovel. You'll be seeing your compatriots in a matter of days at the Welcome Feast and whatever your concern is can wait until then. I have not needed to be subjected to the Dunderheaded Duo all summer, and I would like to keep it that way."

"I haven't felt comfortable asking you to do it all summer," Hermione protested. "You were just my Master, it didn't feel right. But now . . . Look, I haven't seen them except for brief glances after Order meetings before you shove me through the Floo, and all the owls I've sent haven't been answered. I've sent TWELVE owls, twelve! And he's still not replying. He's furious, I know it."

"Imagine how angry he would be if you told him of our . . . dalliance," Snape smirked at her cruelly.

Hermione huffed. "You don't understand. I need to see him, make sure he understands why I took the apprenticeship, why we didn't write to him, the time-turner mess, everything. He probably has refused to even read the letters I sent because he's so mad at me. He probably feels betrayed, and I haven't been there to convince him otherwise! He's my friend, Severus."

Snape shrugged, but didn't reply, turning to the potion with renewed interest. Hermione scoffed at his child-like reaction. Ignoring it would not make it go away. Still, her magic encouraged her to a softer approach, and so she went around the cauldron and fixed her arms around him.

"And what are you doing, witch?" Snape grunted, doing his stirs. "Trying to poison Lupin?"

"You always make it perfectly, _Master_ Snape," Hermione praised wickedly, fastening her arms tighter and pressing her chest to his back. "Besides, I'm just here to collect an answer. Will you take me today?"

"Every day," Snape replied distractedly.

Hermione blushed. "Not like that, Severus. Will you take me to Grimmauld Place today, when you drop off Remus' potion?"

"I just accepted you and you're already running off to other men," Snape chided her, continuing his stirs. "What if I don't want to give you up for even one night?"

"Please Severus?" Hermione begged. "You can leave right away, and you can come retrieve me before our morning potions session. Less than five minutes in their presence, at most. Please?"

He relaxed in her grip, and she knew the battle was over. "Very well. You may spend the night with your _friends_."

Hermione jumped up victoriously and pecked his cheek happily in thanks. "You're the best, sugar pie."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Is it too much to ask you give up on this ridiculous hunt for a pet name? They're getting more and more absurd."

"No chance, sweetums," Hermione replied cheerfully. "You found one for me in minutes, and I need to return the favour. Besides, it annoys you far too much for me to ever give it up."

Snape chuckled at that, making Hermione's smile even more grandiose. "Go prepare your lessons, witch. I wish to finish this without further . . . distraction."

Hermione blushed at his rakish drawl. He made every word about her have a sexual undertone. Not sure how to react, she pecked him quickly on the cheek and let the contentment of her magic drift over her before vacating the room to prepare for her night at Headquarters.

Hermione waited patiently by the Floo for Professor Snape to fill the goblet with the dark potion and return. By patiently, she of course meant that she was tapping her foot and her fingers in anxious worry. She knew Sirius would be happy to have her for the night, but whether or not that meant she would actually be able to have a real conversation with Harry was another matter. If Ron had somehow been unable to convince him that she didn't mean to hide it from him, how was she going to manage?

When he rounded the corner with the Potion, Hermione's heart sped up into overtime.

"Calm yourself," Snape said as he approached. "You'll drive yourself to a panic."

"Sorry" Hermione breathed, trying to still her hands. "I'm just nervous."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Anyone with half a brain could deduce that, my little witch."

He gathered a small palm-full of Floo powder from its dish above the mantle and threw it into the fire with a shout of "12 Grimmauld Place!" before motioning her to enter the fireplace.

"Ladies first," he taunted.

Hermione stuck her chin up in mock indignation and pride before she ducked through the fireplace and straight into the study of Sirius' home. It was strange, stepping foot in the Black home with her new magic. Darkness seemed to seep into from the house, and she told her magic to stop feeling around her. It was making her uncomfortable. Where Hogwarts was light and grey and lovely, the Black home seemed to be filled with darkness. Her magic listened, and the uncomfortable feeling ebbed.

Lupin and Sirius were there to greet her, and with the magic no longer freaking out, she went to greet them.

"Kitten, you're back!" Sirius jumped from the couch with a flourish and dragged Hermione forward so he could see her. He brushed her down once and produced an old, yellowing hankerchief to clean the soot from her face. She heard the fireplace whoosh behind her, and her magic move to wrap itself around the newest arrival, as Sirius exclaimed, "Goodness, kitten, when did you become such a stunning bird? You look gorgeous!"

She blushed at the compliment, knowing exactly what had happened, but her magic spiked in disapproval at the emotions of her mate behind her.

"Hands off my apprentice, Black," Snape growled behind her, "before I have you neutered."

"At least I have the balls for it," Sirius bit back harshly.

Hermione chewed her lip in nervous energy. She was now in the middle of the classic Severus/Sirius war. Before it could escalate any further, however, Lupin rose from the couch with a weary look and greeted the Potions Master.

"Thank you for coming , Severus," Lupin expressed gratefully. "Although Sirius may not say it, we're grateful for your help."

Snape handed Lupin the goblet with a curt nod. "And where are you spending tonight's moon, Lupin?"

Lupin grimaced as he drank down the goblet. "The basement here, actually."

"What?!" Snape roared. "Don't tell me Dumbledore approved this."

Hermione nearly gulped. Severus' temper wasn't good on a normal day, but when werewolves were involved he seemed to be in another sphere of anger. If she wanted to stay the night, she'd have to convince him now, in front of Sirius and Lupin.

"He didn't need to," Sirius jumped in to defend his friend. "It's my house, and I offered."

"Don't tell me Molly Weasley is fine having her spawn around during Lupin's transformation," Snape insisted, his voice sure and proud.

"I don't have much of a choice, really," Lupin explained to Snape. "The cottage isn't safe right now. Greyback's been less than pleased with my attempts to recruit other wolves to our side, and last month he broke through the wards seconds before the transformation. Nearly splinched myself getting to a random forest mid-turn."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly taking Occlumency breaths to keep his anger in check. At least, it was clear to Hermione. She needed to show her approval before he insisted on taking her back with him.

"Well, I think it's fantastic!" Hermione proclaimed a little overenthusiastically. "This way, Sirius gets to be with you through the full moon, just like old times."

Sirius winked at her. "What about you, kitten? You're sticking around for the moon?"

"NO," Snape growled.

"Yes, if that's alright," Hermione pushed, turning a stern eye to Severus. "Master Snape is planning on coming back for me in the morning, but I was hoping to spend the night catching up with Ron and Harry."

"You're always welcome here, if you can stand the portraits," Sirius joked. "You go on upstairs, kitten. Think Harry's in his room, third on the right."

"Miss Granger, a word before you go?" Snape drawled. She turned to see his eyes glittering in disapproval. Without a ward, she moved with him to the corner where he cast a _muffliato._ "I don't want you here tonight. Lupin-"

"Is perfectly safe with the Wolfsbane," Hermione cut him off. "Don't go on about how you're not sure it'll work, either, because _you_ brewed it this month, not me. It's not like I'll be in the basement with him, Severus. I'll be fine."

"I want you safe, witch," Snape insisted, grabbing her shoulders.

She shrugged out of his grip. "And I am. Thank you for the concern."

"Hermione," Snape growled under his breath, "I don't like this."

"Is there a reason you hate werewolves so much?" Hermione demanded, no longer patient in his refusal. "He's safe, he's never hurt me, and I know a dozen spells for downing a werewolf thanks to Moody. There's no reason I can't stay."

They glared each other down, each seeing who would flinch first. Finally, Snape closed his eyes for a deep Occlumency breath.

"If you so much as stub your toe tonight, I will put you over my knee," Snape threatened darkly. She blushed furiously. "I expect you to be in perfect condition when I return tomorrow, or I will hex Black for allowing harm to befall you. I protect what's mine, Miss Granger; you'd better accept that."

"If you don't let your biases in the way, I have no problem with it," Hermione agreed. Her smile turned sultry. "And what do I get if I do keep myself safe for you?"

Snape growled low in his throat. "You are in dangerous waters, _Hermione_ ," he murmured, his eyes lighting her stomach with its fire. "You had best go to your friends before you tempt me any further."

It wasn't just the magic that responded to his provocative tone. She blushed and nodded. "Till tomorrow, Severus."

"Goodnight, witch."

Hermione was staring at the door, unsure of what to do. Should she knock? Should she just go in? Finally deciding the direct approach was better, she quickly shoved open the door before she could lose her nerve, letting it bang against the dirty wall. Harry was on the bed, but jumped a foot in the air at her intrusion.

"Oi!"

"Harry James Potter, you've been ignoring me," Hermione accused, advancing. "You didn't even read my letters, did you?"

"'Mione, hold up," Harry protested, sitting up on his bed, eyes shocked at her. "Of course I read your letters!"

Hermione halted her planned tirade. "You did?"

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed. "I mean, I was a little mad that you kept such a big secret from me, but they were the only way I had to hear from you. Of course I read them! I wasn't ignoring you!"

"Then why didn't you reply?" Hermione demanded.

"Same reason we couldn't talk to him, mate." Ron was seated on the other side of the bed, Hermione realized. "They're not letting anyone send letters."

"Well . . . well. . ." Hermione had no arguments. She let her hand drop to her side and smile sheepishly at her boys. "So you're not mad?"

"Naw, went through mad a couple of weeks ago," Harry replied with a happy smile. "Now I just want to catch up with my best friend."

"Oi!" Ron yelped. "I'm sitting right here!"

Hermione giggled. Right then, two pops echoed in the room and the Weasley twins appeared on either side of her.

"Damn, did we miss it?" Fred lamented.

"We were so looking forward to a good row."

"Been quiet round here for ages."

They rounded on Hermione and looked her up and down. "Looking good, Granger."

"What'd you do, invent a beauty potion?" George asked.

"Not that you needed it-"

"You know-"

"But if you did, we could always-"

"Sell it for you."

"We promise you royalties."

"Sorry to disappoint boys," Hermione grinned at the two pranksters. "What you see is the genuine article. No potion tampering performed."

They both whistled provocatively. "Hottest teacher alive, then, not doubt."

"How will we ever pay attention now?"

Harry started at that. "Wait, you're actually teaching?"

Hermione grinned back at her best friends. "Just the first and second years. But I'll be sitting in on Professor Snape's other classes. You'll be seeing me, don't you worry."

"And watching-" Fred jumped in.

"And ogling-"

"And admiring-"

"And shutting it," Hermione interrupted, giggling. "I dare you to say something like that during class though. I'm pretty sure Se-Professor Snape would blow a lid if the students interrupted his lessons just to flirt with me."

The twins grinned at each other over her head. "Challenge accepted."

"One lid-blowing-"

"Greasy-haired-"

"Dungeon bat-"

"Coming right up."

"Ugh, you two make me dizzy," Ron complained from his position on Harry's bed.

"Oh!" Hermione jumped, reaching into her extended satchel. The box came into her hand quickly. "Fred, George, I had an idea for some items for your joke shop. Well, they're more practical for defense, but for pranks they wouldn't be bad."

Ron balked at her then. "You're helping the twins? What is this?"

"Hush, Ronald," Hermione chastened. She opened the box and pointed to the innocent looking piece of chocolate, with both white and dark sides, on the right. "This one's really cool. It's a shrinking charm in candy form, essentially. You could fit into someone's trunk, pocket, etc. Great for snooping when needed, or if you want to bring your enemies down to size."

"Wicked!"

Hermione nodded. She pointed to the middle bottle. "You remember how Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret?"

They all grinned. "Best day ever."

"Well, it got me to thinking that for people who aren't Animagus', or whose forms aren't very discreet, controlling a self-imposed animal transformation would be brilliant. Lasts for an hour right now, but I've been thinking of ways to make it shorter. I would normally ask Master Snape, but I don't think he'd approve of me using my potions tutelage for evil." Hermione blushed.

The twins picked it up and looked at it eagerly. "What does this one turn you into?"

"I figured a cat would be the most popular animal," Hermione told them. "I got a black cat hair and used it for the formula, just to be stereotypical."

"But you can do it for any animal?" the twins demanded, now completely sold.

"Any furry animal," Hermione corrected. "I haven't quite figured out how to use feathers or other animal parts in the formula, so furry animals is all for now."

"I'm sensing a Transfiguration theme here," Fred joked, putting the vial back in the box. "What's the last one? Dust to turn meat into dessert?"

Hermione laughed. "This is one I developed for Harry, actually. I call it Instant Darkness Powder. Dumbledore gave me this book on gem crafting, and I combined crushed obsidian with a dispersion potion and some other ingredients to stabilize it temporarily, and voila! You throw it on the ground, and it fills the area with a dark cloud. No one can see you, and you can get away. Might come in handy with Filch, right?"

The twins jumped up and kissed both of Hermione's cheeks quickly. "You're brilliant! You have the recipes?"

She pulled the cue card from the side and handed it, plus box, to the boys. "I do expect those royalties you mentioned, Messers Weasley."

They talked with the twins just a little bit longer before – with a gentle poke from Hermione – they took Ron away to test their new products. Hermione and Harry refused to save him though, just giggling until they left the room.

Falling back on Harry's bed, the weight of her day seemed to melt off. "Are you alright though, Harry? With all of this?"

"With you, you mean?" he guessed. She shrugged, so he continued. "I'm fine, Hermione, really. I went through the angry faze weeks ago. But . . . well, I do have a couple of questions."

"Go ahead."

Harry raked his hand through his hair, messing it even further. He decided the conversation was better had lying down though, so he joined Hermione on his back, looking up at the ceiling. "Are you alright? With your parents, you know, gone?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "I think it's different than just them being gone. I at least know they're alive, and that they have a chance. I still wish I could see them, though. Talk to them about things."

Harry's hand found hers in a comforting grip. He didn't say anything for a moment, just letting her sit in her feelings a little longer.

"Ron was feeling a little bit more annoyed about the time-turner when he found out I knew," Harry told her after a moment. "He was a bit mad, being out of the loop."

"I didn't want to tell anyone," Hermione admitted. "If it wasn't for Sirius, I wouldn't have even told you, Harry."

"Yeah, I heard from the twins that you overused it a bit. Is that why? You were embarrassed?"

Hermione nodded. "It's not fun having that kind of weakness Harry, not when it was something they trusted you with because they believed you to be so mature. I had disappointed McGonagall, in my mind, and that . . . I never like disappointing anyone."

"What about Snape?"

" _Professor_ Snape," Hermione said pointedly, "is a fantastic teacher, actually. A great master for my apprenticeship."

"Really?" Harry demanded. "Snape?"

Hermione sighed. "I suppose it is different, when you're not teaching an entire classroom, but yes, he's actually a very good instructor. He's been more than kind to me, and I love being his apprentice. I'm learning so much, we have real discussions about potion theory and applications . . . I consider him a bit of a friend, actually."

"After he forced you into it?" Harry demanded, turning onto his side to look at her.

"I trust him," Hermione said simply. Of course, now it was more than that . . . "He offered his help, and I exchanged the favour. It wasn't force, Harry."

"That's not what Sirius said," Harry told her skeptically.

"There's some bad blood between them," Hermione tried to explain. "I'm not sure what it is, but Professor Snape hates him, and Sirius returns that feeling much more than you'd expect from just a schoolboy tiff."

"Snape's a git, though," Harry pointed out. "Sirius wouldn't have caused it."

"And I wouldn't get addicted to a time-turner," Hermione replied, worry still creasing her brow. "We can't guess, Harry. I just . . . well, Professor Snape is in my friend bubble now, and I can't stand to hear anyone insult him."

"Like he does us?" Harry questioned. "Bit of a double standard, 'Mione."

"He still calls me names," Hermione told him, "but I've come to understand he's doing it more to ground us to our work more than to actually demean us. If you go along with it . . . Look, he's not a bad man, just a little too dominating."

Harry looked at his friend, questions in his eyes. But looking at her, grown up and clearly no longer a student, he sighed and plonked his head back on the pillow. "I trust you, 'Mione. I don't trust him, but I trust you."

Soon, their conversation subsided. They listened to the howl of the werewolf in the basement as the moon came out fully, followed by playful yips. Ron came back and sandwiched Hermione between them on the bed, complaining about hairball jokes and the desire to lick himself being singularly disconcerting. Finally, with peace restored and their friendship renewed, the trio fell asleep.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

* * *

Bill and Moody were gone as of the morning before the Welcome Feast. They'd each given her their goodbyes and final lessons. Moody was determined she practice battle magics, even suggesting trying to do it without drawing attention to herself during a lesson or meal. Bill gave her a final tome as a gift, more advanced than the previous, with a knowing smile.

Dumbledore had come to the classroom rather early that morning to drop off a gift. For Moody, it was a new spell attachment for his prosthetic leg, and for Bill it was a set of chocolates that Dumbledore had hinted at being the favourite of a 'certain witch' that Hermione hadn't been told about, leading to a red blush taking over his face and a mumbled thank you.

Dumbledore gave her something as well: a wooden box with a magically warded lock she thought felt impossible to break. It opened for her, without needing to try to break it, to reveal a set of two goblin-made necklaces. Each was a simple chain with a mugglestone crystal pendant hanging from the end. It was perfectly round and smooth, rare for the stone, and edged with a thick lining of silver that stretched up in an intricate design to encompass the chain and hold it there. It was perfect for enchanting. The silver was used by the goblins heavily for a reason, as it accepted magically imbued properties without hesitation. She knew from her crafting book that tiger's iron or mugglestone would work especially well at containing protection charms and defenses.

"I'm sure Mr. Weasley can assist you in charming them," Dumbledore had told them both. "In case there is someone with whom discreet communication is necessary."

Hermione would never know how Dumbledore knew the things he did, but was also unworried. He would be the last person to worry hers and Severus' newly forming relationship.

Bill had assumed it was Harry who needed the other necklace, and – in an attempt to get Hermione off his back about the girl Dumbledore knew about it – created a list of rituals casts to use and charms to place on it. She already know the best defensive spells for tiger's iron due to her crafting studies with Dumbledore, and so it was a simple matter of methodically eliminating the useless or incompatible ones. She now had a general defensive amulet with protean charm . . . But she had no idea how to give it to him. The Welcome Feast would be starting in just under an hour, and the faculty would be seated with an extra half hour to spare.

Her magic tugged at her for a second, alerting her to a change with Severus. He was nearby, but . . . not. Before she could discern the meaning, it found her. A silver-white patronus of an arctic fox burst through her wall to sit in front of her.

She heard Severus' voice come from the little creation. _'If you are not too busy fussing your appearance, Miss Granger, I would like to see you prior to the feast. Ten minutes, in my chambers.'_ Message delivered, the mist of the fox's body dispersed and vanished before her eyes.

Ten minutes. Only ten minutes to get ready. Hermione jumped to attention intent on fixing herself up.

Truthfully, Hermione had been dressed for a solid hour already. Her hair was half-up, half-down, curls high and draping down the back of her red robes. She had decided on the red tonight, to honour the teachers who had given them to her. Underneath the robes were on of the dresses Madame Maulkins had managed to sell her on. The dark crimson skirt overtop of a longer black one, it gave her volume without caging or extra devices to wear. It was attached to a white top and a magically fastening corset. Hermione was laughing at the comparison to a medieval bar maid, but that's how she felt. She didn't feel like a very formal person, and she knew she wouldn't if she ever wore a dress in Potion's class, and she was more than glad that Madame Maulkins had succumbed to her casual but nice stylings.

Now, however, she was just glad the red robe covered all but the skirt. Severus would laugh too much if he saw the look she'd gone for. She fretted over her hair, her lack of make-up, and her outfit for about eight minutes before deciding she didn't want to be late. She grabbed the box with the pendants from her desk and ran down the steps.

She stopped in front of Snape's doors, fussed her robes around her, and knocked. It opened to her touch, and she entered with nervous energy.

Snape was in front of a mirror on the far end of the room, buttoning his outer coat up to his collar. Hermione grinned. He normally never let her see him anything but put together, and his willingness to have her here for even a part of his dressing had her blushing like a school girl at the intimacy.

"I trust you aren't planning to embarrass me at the feast," Snape said, straightening himself. "You are my apprentice, and as such you will command respect. No nervous fidgeting, not questioning glances at your Gryffindor posse. You will lift your head high, look at whomever is speaking with rapt attent-"

He stepped away from the mirror and turned to her, and she blushed as she saw his words die in his throat. He perused her figure liberally with his eyes, looking up and down before fixing his gaze on her eyes.

"With rapt attention, you were saying?" Hermione teased lightly, her blush betraying her. "Do I meet your approval, Master Snape?"

"Severus," he corrected breathily, stepping forward. "In these rooms, I am Severus. And you most assuredly have my approval."

He bowed her down and captured her lips in a stunning kiss, devouring her easily and stealing her breath as if it were his second nature. Only when the box she was holding get in the way did he end his assault. "What is that?"

"A gift from Dumbledore," Hermione replied, flicking open the lid. "He bought the pendants, but I laid the charms. It has a protean charm and few defensive charms as well. But this way, if you ever need me, or, er, want me, you can just, you know, send a message."

Hermione didn't look at his face, suddenly feeling very stupid. "But you don't have to, you know. It was an ide-"

Her lips were captured again by his, and her mutinous thoughts fled her. When they parted for a breather, Snape captured her face in his long hands and pulled her eyes to meet his.

"I am to be wearing your magic around my neck, little witch?" Snape rumbled. "And you think you have a reason to be ashamed?"

Hermione blushed.

"You want to know the moment I want you, _Hermione_?" He said her name like both the highest praise and the naughtiest of words, bringing heat to pool in her center. "You don't need a pendant for that. I'm hard pressed to find a single moment where I do not want you, here, in my arms."

He pressed his lips to hers once more. "And I find that I want to know exactly what you're wearing under those robes while you're here."

Hermione grinned. "I'll show you my dress, if you promise to wear the necklace for me."

"Done." She barely had time to blink before Snape had pulled the box from her fingers and placed it on the dresser. "Show me."

Hermione unfastened the few buttons on her robes and opened it wide for him to see. "Still think I would look like a bar maid?"

Severus sized her up quickly, his eyes lingering at the black corset restraining her waist. With a rogue grin, he came forward and rested his hands along the fabric. "I think, _Hermione_ , that you look a fitting companion for a Slytherin."

She gasped in mick shock. "You take that back!"

He took her into his arms instead, kissing her soundly. "You look beautiful."

They finally separated to check their appearances, and fasten their pendants. Snape tucked his beneath his massive collar, whereas Hermione transfigured hers to fasten it around the back of her insignia, to keep her neck less than busy. When they finished, Severus motioned to her.

"You will be sitting next to a horrible character tonight, Hermione," Snape warned her. "Dolores Umbridge is going to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, and Dumbledore has seen fit to place you next to her. She is from the Ministry, most likely to interfere at the school. I would advise you to forget your Gryffindor tendencies while you are seated next to her. As of yet, we do not know the influence she wields."

Hermione nodded somberly. "Any idea what kind of woman she is? Have you met her?"

Snape nodded and paused, pursing his lips as if tasting the words. "Pink. You can expect pink."

Hermione frowned. How was a person simply pink? "Is this something I will need to see with my own eyes?"

Snape nodded. Then, straightening and extending his arm to her, he melted into his Head of Slytherin façade. "I will escort you to the Head Table, Miss Granger."

The walked in silence, unsure of who would be listening outside their chambers. He led her along a back passageway and through a guilded door to the Great Hall.

It was bizarre to see the hall so empty. The teachers hadn't all made it yet, and none of the tables had a single student. It was . . . very nearly eerie, if it weren't for the happy twinkling of the stars and the candles dancing overhead distracting from the emptiness below.

"Ah, it's out dear Apprentice Granger!" Flitwick cheered from his elevated and heavily cushioned seat. "Welcome, welcome. And Professor Snape, how good to see you. Not much of a holiday for you this year, hmmm?"

"My apprentice is too thirsty for knowledge for me to have even a semblance of a holiday, Filius," he returned with a little of his regularly mocking humour. "Although, if her grading is sufficient . . ."

Flitwick chuckled and waved them along, so Snape led her to the left-hand side of the table, where sat exactly what he had warned her about. The woman was PINK. She was dressed to the nines in nothing but varying shades of pink, her face toad-like and fixed in an unpleasant and fake little half-smile that Hermione assumed was supposed to make her approachable, but only made her look like a plastic figurine. She gave an aura of conceit Hermione could have pointed to from across the room. It looked as if McGonagall had already decided against her, as her Head of House was more than ignoring the woman on her right.

Still, remembering Snape's warning, she let her Master pull out the chair next to the strange pink woman, and extended her hand politely.

"Hermione Granger, ma'am," she introduced herself.

The woman looked at the hand between them and shook her head. "I hardly think that is the correct wat to greet a superior, Miss Granger."

Hermione's hand fell to her side.

"She is to be addressed as Apprentice Granger, Dolores," Snape intervened with his hallmark coldness.

"Greetings Severus," Dolores bowed her head a fraction of an inch to the man. "You must excuse me, as I'm afraid I simply do not understand. She is your apprentice while she is still at school?"

"She is a graduate, Dolores," Snape confirmed firmly. "As such, she does have the position of apprentice and all the respect that position entails."

"Oh, of course," Professor Umbridge tittered fakely at her Master. Her eyes went to Hermione's and stared at her beadily. "So, Apprentice Granger, I understand you come from a muggle home. How fortunate you are to be at Hogwarts."

And with that, everything Hermione had built up about the woman snapped into place. Any deference she would have shown her for Severus, for Dumbledore, and even for herself vanished in the white hot anger of discrimination and insult. Her parents were hiding in Australia due to people like her. She was on a list because of people like her. How dare she?

"And how fortunate you are, Professor Umbridge" Hermione returned her passive aggressive smile, "for you to have been placed at the school with your lack of credentials."

Umbridge's mouth opened briefly in outraged shock, like she couldn't believe the cheek coming from the young woman. She heard Snape suppress a chuckle in his pumpkin juice. Hermione smiled over Dolores' head at Professor McGonagall, who was looking at her in complete glee.

"I-I will have you know I was placed here personally by Cornelius Fudge himself!" Umbridge stuttered out.

"Of course," Hermione replied politely. "And I'm sure your administrative skills as Undersecretary will come in handy, that's no question, but if you require anyone with more experience to help you with teaching Defense, I'm sure Professor Snape would loan me out to you. After all, we're friends here, aren't we?"

She could see McGonagall behind Professor Umbridge's rapidly reddening visage trying not to make any audible noises as she shook in laughter.

"And you have a plethora of experience?" Dolores demanded.

"Are you insinuating I lack experience, Madame Undersecretary?" Hermione balked fakely at the woman. "That's a little uncalled for, wouldn't you agree?"

"Delores, are we talking about your experience?" McGonagall added, now sufficiently calm to launch her own attack. "Please, do tell us. I'm sure the Minister would find someone highly qualified to lead to position."

"Of course," Umbridge straightened herself self-importantly in her seat. "I have extensive Ministry Training and have put together a curriculum that was approved by the Minister himself."

"Oh, what training?" Hermione interjected, cutting her off. "Do all Wizegamot members go through the rigorous months of Auror training, or a more condensed version?"

"W-Why, er," Umbridge floundered, "of course not. The members of Wizegamot are powerful enough to do without that foolish training."

"I'm afraid I do not follow, Dolores," McGonagall interjected, her tone polite. "You mentioned training, yet have stated that Wizegamot does not require any. Surely you were trained for the post?"

"I had separate training as Undersecretary," Umbridge stipulated, caught in her subterfuge. "Oh, I see the students are beginning to enter."

So they were. Hermione sat back in her seat, happy with the dressing down she accomplished. Looking over at Severus and the mirth in his eyes, it seemed he agreed. However stoic he was in front of the student body, Hermione was pleased she could read him anyways.

McGonagall rose from her seat at the end of the table and turned to her fellow staff-members. "I suppose it's time to greet the first years. Dolores, Severus, Apprentice Granger."

She turned out the side door, headed to intercept the new students. Hermione sat tall in her chair and looked out to the students who were still arriving. It appeared as thought Hufflepuffs, on majority arrived first. Slytherins next. Turning to Severus in question, he merely nodded in amusement

She saw the Weasley clan entering then, from the twins to Ginny. Harry and Ron were with their years, who all looked up and started pointing at the staff table. They waved at her, and she nodded in return. Soon, the pointing escalated. The Slytherin table looked at her position next to Professor Snape and wondered, while the Ravenclaws simply tried to figure it out. Her new looks attracted attention too, with a few Gryffindor boys wolf-whistling their approval. Snape glared them down, but it did nothing from his position far away.

When nearly all the students in the hall were staring, the Weasley twins jumped on the Gryffindor table and cheered:

 _"Granger, Granger, let's all kneel,_

 _She handles Snape like it's no big deal!_

 _Granger, Granger, hot as hell,_

 _She'll teach Potions twice as well!"_

Hermione looked over to Severus. He looked ready to murder the Weasley twins where they stood. Some of the hall laughed and cheered at their antics though, including a happy clapping coming from behind her. Dumbledore approached the podium happily clapping.

"Yes, yes, a wonderful performance to start the year from the Weasley twins," Dumbledore called over the room. "However, if you would all quiet down, I believe we have some new students that need sorting!"

The double doors opened with a loud thunk as McGonagall shepherded the new students to the stool whereon the Sorting Hat rested.

" _In times of old, when I was new,_

 _And Hogwarts barely started,_

 _The founders of our noble school_

 _Thought never to be parted._

 _United by a common goal,_

 _They had the selfsame yearning_

 _To make the world's best magic school_

 _And pass along their learning._

 _"Together we will build and teach"_

 _The four good friends decided._

 _And never did they dream that they_

 _Might some day be divided._

 _For were there such friends anywhere_

 _As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_

 _Unless it was the second pair_

 _Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,_

 _So how could it have gone so wrong?_

 _How could such friendships fail?_

 _Why, I was there, so I can tell_

 _The whole sad, sorry tale._

 _Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those_

 _Whose ancestry's purest."_

 _Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose_

 _Intelligence is surest."_

 _Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those_

 _With brave deeds to their name."_

 _Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot_

 _And treat them just the same."_

 _These differences caused little strife_

 _When first they came to light._

 _For each of the four founders had_

 _A house in which they might_

 _Take only those they wanted, so,_

 _For instance, Slytherin_

 _Took only pure-blood wizards_

 _Of great cunning just like him._

 _And only those of sharpest mind_

 _Were taught by Ravenclaw_

 _While the bravest and the boldest_

 _Went to daring Gryffindor._

 _Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest_

 _and taught them all she knew,_

 _Thus, the houses and their founders_

 _Maintained friendships firm and true._

 _So Hogwarts worked in harmony_

 _for several happy years,_

 _but then discord crept among us_

 _feeding on our faults and fears._

 _The Houses that, like pillars four_

 _had once held up our school_

 _now turned upon each other and_

 _divided, sought to rule._

 _And for a while it seemed the school_

 _must meet an early end._

 _what with duelling and with fighting_

 _and the clash of friend on friend._

 _And at last there came a morning_

 _when old Slytherin departed_

 _and though the fighting then died out_

 _he left us quite downhearted._

 _And never since the founders four_

 _were whittled down to three_

 _have the Houses been united_

 _as they once were meant to be._

 _And now the Sorting Hat is here_

 _and you all know the score:_

 _I sort you into Houses_

 _because that is what I'm for._

 _But this year I'll go further,_

 _listen closely to my song:_

 _though condemned I am to split you_

 _still I worry that it's wrong,_

 _Though I must fulfil my duty_

 _and must quarter every year_

 _still I wonder whether sorting_

 _may not bring the end I fear._

 _Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

 _the warning history shows,_

 _for our Hogwarts is in danger_

 _from external, deadly foes_

 _And we must unite inside her_

 _or we'll crumble from within_

 _I have told you, I have warned you..._

 _let the Sorting now begin."_

Hermione clapped along with the rest of the students, her mind buzzing over the implications as the sorting went underway.

"Aurelia Abbott!"

Hermione looked to Severus for advice, but he seemed just as focused as ever. She mimicked the man slightly, diverting her thoughts strictly to the Sorting in front of her. She clapped for every student as they got sorted, noting with displeasure how Harry and Ron refused to clap for Slytherin. When the Sorting finally finished, Dumbledore once again retook the podium.

"Welcome and congratulations to our new students," Dumbledore greeted, "and welcome back to our old. Now, we have a few start of term announcements before the feast begins. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to all students, and that anyone caught drawing on the portraits should know they can, in fact, speak."

A few older students chuckled at that. "We would also like, as a staff, to offer our congratulations to Miss Hermione Granger, who, in spite of not taking her OWLS, achieved ten NEWTS with honours and is now the youngest graduate of Hogwarts in the past 200 years."

Cheers from the room made Hermione want to duck her head, as she certainly wasn't young, but Dumbledore extended to her a rolled up scroll and she rose hastily to accept it. He hadn't yet given her her results yet, though she knew he had them, and if those were them she'd die happy once again.

"Very impressive indeed," Dumbledore told them, "however, we also need to extend to her our sincerest welcome as a member of Hogwarts staff. Miss Granger has undertaken an apprenticeship for Mastery with of resident Potion's Master, Professor Snape, and will be teaching the first and second year potions student under his watchful eye."

Another round of clapping, this time more subdued. Hermione smiled at Harry and Ron, who were leading their table in another round of _Granger, Granger_ with help of the twins.

"There is another change of staff this term," Dumbledore announced. "Our Defense Against the Dark Arts post will be filled this year by Dolores Umbridge, and I'm sure you'll extend to her your hearty welcomes when you meet her in class. On another note-"

"Hem hem."

Hermione swore a bowtruckle sneezed, the noise was so high-pitched and fake. "What are you doing?" Hermione whispered to the pink explosion to her left.

"Yes, on another note-"

"Hem hem."

This time Dumbledore stopped to look at Umbridge, who rose from her seat and nodded.

Hermione cringed as she spoke. Her fake praise of the students, her rant against progress, her less than subtle displays of power. She tried to appear invested, but she couldn't help the grimace that formed on her features

When she finished, Dumbledore took to the podium once more. "Thank you for your most well-rehearsed remarks, Professor Umbridge. Now, as I'm sure you're all hungry after your travels, I have only one more thing to say: feast!"

* * *

After dinner, Hermione discovered that a majority of the staff gathered in the staff room to discuss it. Luckily, Dolores Umbridge gave her excuses of organizing her Defense classroom, leaving her with the rest of the staff and her scroll of NEWT scores.

"I think we all need a small brandy after that speech," Professor Vector sighed, pulling out the crystal bottle and glasses.

"Here here!" McGonagall cried in accord. "That woman is horrible!"

"Say it louder," Snape sneered at them. "Perhaps she'll hear and leave. Or force you to."

Hermione flinched. "Do you think she has that much power?"

"She will eventually," Snape warned. "The Minister isn't going to settle for having one position at Hogwarts, Miss Granger. He will undoubtedly grant her permission to make what she sees as necessary replacements."

The mood sombered instantly. McGonagall wasn't about to let it. "Well, it's no use fretting over the future," she announced firmly. "Not while Miss Granger did her best to put her in her place."

"You're very lucky you are not technically a teacher, Miss Granger," Snape informed her. "Should she be making cuts, you would undoubtedly have earned your dismissal tonight."

"She insulted my parents," Hermione defended herself. "Any respect I may have given her was erased the moment those words left her mouth."

"Miss Granger, did you receive your NEWTS grades?" Professor Flitwick diverted quickly to avoid a fight. "I daresay we're all eager to know how you did."

She looked at the scroll in her hands. "I'm not sure, but I think they are right here."

"Oooh, Dumbeldore, the sly thing," Professor Burbage clapped her hands happily. "Well come on then, open them girlie."

Hermione looked to Severus, who merely shrugged. She held it out to him.

"You do it," she said. "I can't look."

Severus rolled his eyes, but accepted the rolled up parchment. He picked the ribbon of with deliverate slowness, tormenting the whole staff room.

"Come on, Severus!" McGonagall insisted. "Just tell us!"

He languidly opened the scroll, his lips puckering at the sight. "Well, let's see here . . . ah yes, she passed."

McGonagall was done messing around. She snatched the parchment from Severus' hands and read it. Happily.

"All Outstandings!" McGonagall crowed. "Highest score was a tie, Transfiguration and Charms."

Hermione couldn't restrain herself anymore. She peeked over her Head of House's shoulder to see her grades.

 **N.E.W.T.S. Results**

 **Student: Hermione Jean Granger**

 **Institution: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

 **SCORES:**

 **Ancient Runes – 99% O**

 **Arithmancy – 95% O**

 **Astronomy – 90% O**

 **Care of Magical Creatures – 95% O**

 **Charms – 100% O**

 **Defense Against the Dark Arts – 92% O**

 **Herbology – 93% O**

 **History of Magic – 96% O**

 **Potions – 99% O**

 **Transfiguration – 100% O**

Hermione grinned at her sheet. She was done, and she had done well. The professors around her offered her congratulations, and she accepted them happily. Still, it wasn't the celebration she wanted. She looked to Professor Snape, who motioned towards the door.

"I need to write my parents!" Hermione lied excitedly, plucking the parchment from her Professor's hand. "They'll be so excited. Thank you all so much!"

Hermione and her Master ducked out of the staff room quickly as they could, and when they were finally alone Snape gave her a small smile. "Well done, Miss Granger."

She beamed up at him. "Shall we celebrate? I'm pretty sure Dumbledore thinks I need to drink, because he left a several bottles of wine in my kitchen."

"I would be delighted to join you, Miss Granger," Snape grimaced, "but I need to give my yearly address to the Slytherins."

"Oh." Hermione thought. "Well, I am your apprentice. Shall I join you?"

Snape nodded. "Follow me, Miss Granger; I will be showing you the Slytherin dormitories."

They made their way down towards their own rooms in the Dungeons, but before reaching it made a sharp turn into a large area that was clear except a single painting on one wall.

"Monkswood," Snape said, not waiting to be asked. The portrait swung open silently, and he and Hermione entered the lavish but dark Slytherin common rooms.

It was nice. Very similar to Gryffindor, but with a bit less personality and more refinement. Leather couches instead of fabric, black, green and silver instead of the warm Gryffindor palate. The windows looked out into the dark expanse of the Black Lake, with no indication of life. Slytherins looked on their entrance with a bit of excitement for Professor Snape but sneers of rejection for Hermione.

"Gather your fellow Slytherins," Snape ordered quickly. "No more than five minutes. Go!"

They scurried away quickly, probably to fetch others from their unpacking and reading. Hermione looked to him, but he remained in his stoic and icy façade, not looking at her. She tried to emulate as she stood next to him.

The seventh and sixth years were the most easily gathered, arriving quickly as if practiced. She saw their angry looks towards her, but refused to take them to heart. When Draco Malfoy descended the steps, however, she had to turn away to avoid the look on his face.

When it seemed that the common room was filled with everyone, Snape started. "Welcome to Slytherin house. I'll dispense with the pleasantries so many others give and simply say this: your duty to this house is to each other. If you have fanciful ideas of inter-house unity and cooperation, I suggest you reevaluate your priorities. Slytherin house is not well-liked, and it is not well-listened to. There will be many who curse the ground you walk on. Do not give them any reason to believe it. You are to comport yourselves as upstanding citizens in every word and every mannerism. If you feel you have been wronged, take it up with me and not the offender. Do not let petty vendettas lower you to their level. We are a proud house, a strong house, and a surviving house. Do not disappoint me."

Snape paused, looking over their faces. "Now, should any of you require assistance, my office hours are posted on the announcement board. If you catch me outside of that time, you may address issues with me as well so long as they are of the utmost importance. My apprentice, Miss Granger," he motioned to her, "will have her times posted as well within the week. She has been given heavy instruction on how to handle the dealings of this house, and you should not hesitate to call upon her for aid in either your petty squabbles or for potions."

"Why would we need someone who's younger than us?" a seventh year sneered aloud, giving voice to the room's reticence.

"It is your choice," Snape drawled, "however, Miss Granger has been known in the past to tutor her fellow Gryffindors into passing even their most dismal of subjects, and has received ten NEWTS with Outstandings in all of them. Should any of you feel . . . compelled to perform at a higher level than Gryffindors, I would use their strength – to be clear, that is Miss Granger – to your own advantage."

"So she has to help us with everything, does she?" Malfoy's voice carried across the common room. Hermione turned to him with a glare in her eyes. "We can use her for _whatever we want_?"

Hermione nearly drew her wand, but Severus' hand stilled her.

"Any subjects she has a NEWT in," Snape clarified. "However, limit it to her office hours, Mr. Malfoy, or I will have you taking over her ingredient preparations, is that clear?"

With a grimace, Malfoy nodded.

"Any other concerns?" Snape asked, his voice harsh. When silence greeted him, he nodded. "You'll receive your schedules tomorrow morning at breakfast, so I suggest a good night's rest. Goodnight."

He guided Hermione from the common room and down the hall to her own chambers. When the door closed behind them, Hermione fumed.

"Malfoy!" she raged. "Three years older, THREE, and he still gets under my skin."

"Remember what I told you," Snape warned. "Draco is perhaps the most likely to report back to those within the Death Eaters' circles. You must behave around him."

"And if he and his goons try to corner me?" Hermione demanded. "I could hex them into next century, sure, but I'm-"

He cut of her rambling with a kiss, effectively smothering her concerns with the waves of magic flowing through her. She sighed happily before returning it with equal fervor.

"I don't believe worrying counts as celebrating," Snape murmured against her lips.

Hermione nodded in agreement before fastening his mouth against her own.

And they celebrated.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

* * *

Severus introduced her to his pre-term tradition, letting her try to drink herself into a mild stupor. Unfortunately, barefoot in her chambers, no amount of drink inebriated her. She tried, heaven knows she tried, but every time the buzz started it disappeared into the earth at her feet. Snape, on the other hand, was trying to preserve his masculinity and matched her alcohol intake. And, well, . . .

Snape was a good drunk, to be honest. She'd seen the twins sloshed before, and they always got loud and belched and sang and were basically impossible to deal with. Snape became more morose, sadder. He sat by her side, answering her direct questions and occasionally making inappropriate comments about her breasts, but besides that he was simply somber.

"I like your pre-term tradition," Hermione reassured him for the fifth time. "Sorry I can't get drunk."

"S'better that way," Snape mumbled. "No chance of becoming a drunkard."

"You're not a drunkard," Hermione protested. "How often do you even drink?"

"Occasionally, or to get drunk?" Snape asked sadly, as if realizing something.

"To get drunk," she clarified. She sipped her drink softly.

"Thass three times," Snape nodded at his estimation. "I drink when ssool starts, when sschoool endsss, and at Halloween."

Hermione saw a flicker of something at the mention of the date. "Well, you're definitely not a drunk," she announced happily, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Three times is less than supposedly healthy people. But . . . Why Halloween?"

Snape's chest seemed to cave, and he sank into himself. "I don't tell people."

"Why?" Hermione pressed, her heart clenching.

"They'll hate me," Snape said, eyes hollow as he stared into the fire. "You would. You'd hate me."

"I could never, Severus," Hermione reassured him, her hand coming to his face. "You've done many things you're not proud of, I'm sure, but whatever it is, I'll be here. As long as you want me."

Her magic danced around her at the prospect. It reassured her that her vow right then was more than just words of comfort. Still, Snape turned his face away from her.

"Why do you drink on Halloween, Severus?"

"S'Potter, is always Potter," Snape mumbled, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Harry?" Hermione thought for a moment. Harry . . . Halloween. It's when his parents died. It was that night. "The night his parents died."

"S'not for Potter," Snape muttered, becoming less coherent as more of his alcohol was absorbed into his system. "For Lily."

Hermione couldn't speak in that moment. She sat there, staring, listening.

"Lily, my only friend," Snape murmured. "Beautiful. I killed her. I told him the prophecy, he killed her. Why not Longbottom? S'not as much of a waste."

He leaned forward, tears coming now. "No, can't think that. Sshe woulds say it was wrong. I'm wrong, all wrong."

Hermione wrapped her arms around him now, unable to process his level of pain. Some prophecy made him feel responsible for the death of Harry's mother. A prophecy, Harry, Neville . . . August 31st, both of their birthdays. _'Why not Longbottom?'_ Could Neville have been the Chosen One? She wasn't supposed to know this, she was certain. Harry didn't know a single word of it, including the fact that Severus had known his mother. He had no pictures of them, nobody had mentioned it . . . she needed to speak to Sirius, or Remus. Someone.

But could she? This was a part of Severus' pain. He was crying in her arms about Lily's death. Was it really her place to ask?

"You're not wrong," Hermione whispered encouragingly, almost mechanically. She had no idea what he was supposedly wrong about, but he needed the words. "She would be proud of you."

Snape shook his head, but didn't say another word. Hermione eased him up from the couch and took him upstairs to her bed, setting him down. He was practically asleep by the time she left.

Her mind was in a jumble. There was so much new information. She needed . . . needed something. Some word on it. A confirmation about Lily and Severus, at the least. But Severus . . . she loved him, she knew, and she didn't want to break his trust.

Eventually, she made a decision. She went down to her fireplace and grabbed some floo powder. "12 Grimmauld Place!"

The flames turned green, and she stuck her head through, looking into the study area. Lupin was seated at the couch, and jumped at the head coming out from the fireplace at him.

"Hermione?" Lupin asked. "What on earth are you doing calling so late?"

Hermione grimaced. "I'm breaking someone's trust."

Lupin shut his book immediate and came to kneel beside the fireplace. "Sounds serious. Who do you need?"

"You can help me," Hermione admitted. "This is about Lily."

Lupin stiffened under her eyes. His eyes seemed to flare with understanding. "It's about Snape, isn't?"

Hermione nodded, tears coming. "I needed someone to talk to. He got drunk tonight, and said some . . . things. About Harry, about his Mom. He was her friend?"

Lupin sighed, but nodded in resignation. "We decided, back at the end of your Third Year, that Harry needed to think the best of his parents. We tell him about the good times, how happy they were. They were happy, you understand Hermione, but not everything is good, especially when surrounded by darkness. We don't tell him about their arguments or fights, but they both had their own . . . faults, as they were. They loved each other, and it was enough."

"How does Se-Professor Snape fit in?" Hermione prodded along, trying to process.

Lupin's eyes were sad. "You have to understand, Hermione, that among pureblooded family's honour and power were paramount. Sirius, James . . . they grew up believing, for a time, that the way to prove their worth was to, for want of another term, elevate themselves on the failures of others. James was less inclined to think less of others than Sirius, but when he marked someone an enemy they stayed that way. It took no time into their first year for them to start using their darkest traits against Severus."

"They bullied him." Hermione didn't pose it as a question.

"Publicly and privately," Lupin affirmed. "He was a half-blood in a pureblood house, so his classmates didn't protect him much. Slytherins weren't popular with Gryffindors anymore back then than they are today, so when he was bullied, there was a hugely Gryffindor crowd. His negative traits today were prevalent in his youth; he was smug in his victories, and angry at his failures. He was an outcast with a violent temper whenever pranked, and it made him a prime target."

Lupin shifted to sit cross-legged, obviously telling a story now.

"The only Gryffindor who tried to help was Lily," Remus told her, his eyes bearing an old respect for Harry's mother. "She was friends with Snape before Hogwarts, and that's as much as we knew. She spend a lot of time with him. When James saw them together, I believe it made the treatment worse. James liked Lily from the first time she'd stood up to him, and to see her so close with someone he couldn't stand brought out the worst in him. He grew out of it, lived to regret it in his own way, but he wasn't always a defender of the light."

He sighed. "She stayed Snape's friend until fifth year. Snape had finally started making friends in his own house, although we heard it was more like he was a drug dealer. He was always talented at potions, and it seems like he got good enough to develop potions of his own. He sold them or gave them out for favours, and suddenly he was friends with the most influential members of his house. Many of them on track to become the most faithful Death Eaters. He bought his way into Voldemort's future inner circle. People like Lucius Malfoy showed him special attention too, even though he was a little older than him. He was buying his place in Slytherin, and he finally fit in.

"Lily hated it," Lupin admitted. "Looking back, I wonder if it was the fact that they were Death Eaters of the fact that he had less time to spend with her that caused the divide between them. Lily liked being special to people. She wasn't shallow, of course not, but she always wanted to be THE person. The only friend, the best in class, the one. And she was a good person enough for it not to be conceited. Snape started treating her less as a life-preserver and more as a regular girl, and they grew further apart."

"That's awful," Hermione whispered.

"He treated her the same way," Lupin told her, his voice stern in warning. "He started hanging out with Death Eaters to spite her, knowing how much she hated them. And how much they hated her. The last time she came to his defense when James went after him, he called her a 'mudblood'. That was the end of their friendship. It took a year after that, a full year of leaving Snape alone and becoming Lily's friend measure by measure before she agreed to date James. They grew up, and they grew past Snape. He became a Death Eater, they got married. And the rest . . ."

"Is history," Hermione finished.

They both stayed there for a moment, just living in the past. Remus sat and remembered his friends. For Hermione, she was mulling over the revelations. He had clearly never gotten past Lily's death any more than Lupin and Sirius had gotten over James'. No matter their differences, he had clearly mourned for her. From the sounds of it, his proclamation on the couch _'Lily, my only friend'_ was right; anyone else in his life was with him for advantage. Lily was the only one who had been his friend.

"People grow apart, Hermione," Remus told her after a moment of contemplation. "Severus and Lily . . . their personalities weren't a good match, and over the years it became more and more of a problem. But I know Lily still thought fondly of her first friend, even after she couldn't be around him anymore. James grew out of his mean streak, Pettigrew became a Death Eater . . . no one is the same as they were in Hogwarts. We grow up, and we grow out of things. Please don't judge them too harshly."

She nodded, silent in contemplation. So much information. But one more thing was nagging her . . . "When were you all going to tell Harry about the prophecy?"

Lupin grew still as stone. "Don't, Hermione. It's not something we can talk about."

"Why not?" Hermione demanded. "Does anyone want to tell him the REASON his parents died? I don't know all the details, Remus, but I know it has something to do with him, and his parents."

"Hermione," Lupin warned.

"I'm part of the Order!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm not Harry, I'm not Ron, I'm Hermione Granger! Why can't I know?"

"Because you'll tell Harry!" Lupin insisted. "That boy has enough on his plate with the public and Voldemort, he doesn't need this as well!"

"And he'd be better able to deal with it if he knew why," Hermione stated.

"No."

Hermione huffed. "Fine. Make me a less effective Order member. I can't help if you won't tell me what I'm supposed to be helping with."

"Just keep Harry safe," Lupin told her, his tone more gentle now. "Be his friend. Maybe even help him learn how to defend himself. That's all you need to do."

"Well, the DADA Professor's going to be no help with that," Hermione griped. "You should have heard her at dinner, Remus. She called out my 'unfortunate parentage' in front of the entire staff! And then she interrupted Dumbledore's speech to basically tell everyone that self-improvement and learning is a selfish notion and that the Ministry would be taking over education. She is the worst kind of person I can imagine."

Remus looked disturbed by the news. "She said that? That you shouldn't learn?"

Hermione stuck up her chin and did her best Umbridge impression. "' _Progress, for the sake of progress, should be discouraged.'_ Honestly, I wish the feast had appeared then so I could throw food at that pink puppet."

Lupin was quiet.

"What is it? Why doesn't the Ministry want us learning?"

"Word around here," Lupin said carefully, his words measured, "is that the Minister believes Dumbledore is training you all for a reason. He believes, absurd as it is, that Dumbledore wants to take over the Ministry and will use the youth to help."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed. "Dumbledore's been offered the position at least twice before, and he turned it down. He can't believe-"

"When people are afraid, they'll believe anything," Lupin told her. "They'll believe werewolves, even on the other 28 days that aren't full moons, are monsters. They'll believe Voldemort isn't returned. They'll believe that someone who they trusted before is now their enemy. Fear is a powerful weapon, and Voldemort wields it better than anyone has before."

"So no one's going to learn defense this year."

Lupin nodded. "I'm afraid it will be on you all to learn in your own time."

"You mean the students," Hermione pointed out. "I'm graduated."

"Of course," Lupin smiled genuinely then, for the first time in their conversion. "I'm sorry I forgot."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione brushed him off. "I'm used to being grouped with them."

Lupin nodded at her, his expression warm and friendly. "You know they're lost without you, don't you? They might be fine individually, but as just the two of them . . . Harry and Ron really missed you this summer."

"I missed them," Hermione told him. "But I had to do it."

"Will you promise me you'll make time for the boys again, help them along this year?" Lupin asked. "With the Ministry there, I'm worried Harry will . . . well, he won't be at his best."

"I'll take care of them, Remus," Hermione promised softly. "They're my brothers, practically, and I'm not letting anyone hurt my family."

Remus gave her an approving smile. "You're a good girl, Hermione. Go get some rest before your big day tomorrow."

They said their goodbyes and closed the floo connection. Hermione was alone again with her thoughts and her revelations.

She had learned so much about Severus from that conversation. She was glad it was Remus she got instead of Sirius. She had a feeling Remus' account was for the most part unbiased, and for that she was grateful. He was obviously one of the only people to try to give Snape the benefit of the doubt.

But she had gone and asked him, behind Severus' back, basically the second she had found it. It felt wrong for her to do it. She needed to tell him. But . . . she was a coward.

Hermione took a piece of parchment and wrote a letter to Severus instead.

 _ **Severus,**_

 _ **I'm out on the couch, don't worry. You got drunk last night, so I thought you'd need the bed. I have a confession to make, though.**_

 _ **You told me a few things last night that I don't think you will remember. You told me about the prophecy, although not what was in it. And you told me about Lily Potter. You weren't making sense at that point, but I had the feeling she meant a lot to you. I wanted to know the story, but I wasn't sure you'd tell me when you woke up.**_

 ** _I flooed HQ and talked to_** ** _Remus. I'm sorry I went behind your back. I feel terribly for doing that to you. It feels like I betrayed some of the trust you put in me. I won't bring it up again with you, and I won't talk about it until you want to._**

 _ **I'm sorry Severus. I still**_ _ **lo**_ _ **want you, no matter what you feel responsible for. You're a good man, and I want to be a good woman for you someday.**_

 _ **Yours,**_

 ** _Hermione_**


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

* * *

Hermione stayed out of the bedroom, reading her crafting books on the couch by the fire and, alternatively, pretending to read them while worrying about Snape's reaction to her prying. She was sure that a private person like Severus would hate her invasion, that he would yell and hiss and be so angry he'd never speak to her again. Finally, Snape came down the stairs, eyes bleary with his hangover. Hermione bit her lip but nodded to him, with a vial in hand. Her shame from the previous night flooded through her, and she couldn't meet his eyes. Her magic seemed to clutch to him in desperation, pulling at him and trying to keep him. It only made her more nervous. He was definitely going to send her away now. She sat up and didn't look in his eyes, not even when he took the vial from her.

"For hangovers," he guessed. "Have you had any?"

"I'm fine," Hermione insisted guiltily. "I tried, but I don't think I can get drunk. Sorry."

Snape groaned at the revelation. "You dealt with me completely sober?"

Hermione nodded, her heart tearing. "It makes what I did even worse, I know. I'm sorry, Severus."

She heard Severus sigh. He sounded disappointed in her, she thought, so when Severus scooped her up into his arms she was still with shock. He picked her up as easily as a sack of potatoes before sitting down on the couch where she had lain, her perched in his lap. He held her tightly, as if at any moment she would leave. She held him the same way. They held each other for a long moment. Hermione wasn't willing to speak first, so they sat there, wrapped in each other, until Severus was ready.

"There are some things I can't tell you yet," Severus's lips were at his ears, his voice begging and sad. "And there are some things I can't tell you until the Dark Lord is well and truly dead. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered, afraid of what was coming next.

"So long as you accept that, you never need to be afraid to ask me anything," Snape told her, his hand stroking her back tenderly. "I'm mad that you went to Lupin, of all people, but I'm not mad at you for wanting answers. Tonight, if you like, we can set aside some time to talk about what you learned from the wolf and take it from there."

"Wait, you're not going to yell at me?" Hermione asked, surprised. "Get mad at me? Tell me you don't want me anymore?"

Snape brought her face down to hers for a tender kiss. Her tension left her at his intimate acceptance, and she melted into his lap. When he pulled away, he held her face in his large hands and looked through her with his black, unfathomable eyes.

"Hermione," he said softly, "don't think for a moment anything you could do would make me want you less. I will not yell at you. I will not raise my voice to you. I will not hurt you, no matter what you do to me."

"What?"

Severus shook his head, as if shaking out a thought. "Hermione, I promised myself a long time ago that if there was ever a woman who cared enough to endure my presence and to trust me with her feelings, I would never give her a reason to be afraid. Even if I thought you'd done something wrong, I would never want you to be afraid of me. Sorry, maybe, but definitely not afraid. In my mind, yelling at or demeaning a woman in your care is nearly as bad as beating her. I will not be that man, and I hope you'll never need to worry that I will be."

"But I went behind your back," Hermione insisted. "I didn't even wait for you to tell me no, I just ran off with the first bit of information you gave me. You deserve to yell at me, you deserve to be upset."

"I gave you a fraction of knowledge last night in my stupor, which is entirely to blame on me getting drunk in your presence," Severus stated as if it was an obvious explanation. "Any person would have wanted answers, but you, witch, you are the most curious of all the students at Hogwarts. Of course you would go seek out answers. I could not expect anything else of you. Why would I be mad for you following your nature?"

Hermione's eyes welled up in tears. "How can you just forgive me?"

"Because you are you," Snape stated simply. Seeing her confused face, he continued. "Would anyone believe Hermione Granger would take advantage of someone? Never. You care so much about everything and everyone, so much so you feel guilty for getting what limited information the wolf could provide to you. You would never do something to hurt me intentionally, and that makes your actions more than forgivable. They don't even need to be forgiven."

Hermione kissed him furiously, tears streaming down her face at his admission. She loved him, loved him with her whole heart. She would die for this man.

"You are too good to me," Hermione whispered, her voice thick with tears.

"I don't deserve you," Snape whispered back, his voice sounding much the same as hers, "and if I don't deserve you, I certainly don't deserve to hurt you in any way. Never believe you deserve any ill-treatment, Hermione."

"So we won't argue?" Hermione teased lightly.

"Oh, we'll argue," Snape promised, his eyes lightening with a portion of mirth. "You thrive on debate, little witch, and I would never deny you the opportunity to go up against a superior opponent."

Hermione openly scoffed.

He smirked, then, tenderly, placed his forehead to hers in a sign of intimacy and trust. "But I will not sacrifice what you're giving me for any perceived wrongs or rights. I'm far too self-serving for that."

He looked like he was going to keep going, so Hermione latched herself to his mouth to show him just how much his words meant, how she felt, how much he meant to her in return.

Hermione sighed against his lips. "I don't deserve you either."

When they finally got to breakfast, Dolores Umbridge's seat was no longer next to hers. Whether she had taken it up with Dumbledore or whether it was a convenient move to place another new Professor next to her, she wasn't sure. Professor Plank seemed a genuinely nice guy, but she worried over Hagrid's absence. She knew he was visiting his family's giant clan, trying to convince them to their side, and he was set to return a couple of days ago. Worse, the new Professor's presence made his absence painfully clear. She may know he was missing, but that's because she was in the Order; to have this new professor here plainly showed that the Order was up to something, and anyone with half a brain could figure that out.

Severus seemed to agree. It was not only dangerous for the Order for Hagrid to be missing, but to Severus himself. He would need to report to the Dark Lord soon, she knew, and tell him what Dumbledore said of Hagrid's absence. Even if he lied outright that he had no idea, Voldemort would be able to guess where the half-giant had gone.

Hermione didn't have too much time to worry about it, though, as she was beginning her morning with two classes, both Gryff/Slyth classes, first and second years. She'd be done for the day after that, but the fact that she couldn't even observe Severus before plunging straight in had her anxious. Severus released her from breakfast early to prepare.

She hurried to her little station in the corner of the Potion's classroom and went through her lesson plans. That was where she was when she heard footsteps in the corridor. It was only seven thirty, still a half hour to class. Breakfast had just ended. She snuck to the door to listen.

"I can assure you, my apprentice is being taught to temper herself," a familiar voice drawled. "I've administered her discipline for her outburst over dinner and she is aware that her behavior is unacceptable, particularly in front of the students. You needn't concern yourself. I am, after all, quite a competent master."

"I just worry about her influence, Severus," a sickly-sweet voice replied. Umbridge. "We wouldn't want our youngest charges learning disrespect from someone like her."

"I will be overseeing the bulk of her lessons, Dolores," Snape replied firmly, "and should she fail me in any way I will be sure to correct her. While my apprentice does lack in many of the social refinements you might find in a more _distinguished_ person, of course, she is the youngest graduate of 200 years and I must make use of her. If I hadn't taken measures to ensure her acceptance of me as her Master, she would have accepted an apprenticeship with Minerva. Surely that would be . . . undesirable for your aims?"

She could practically hear the horror on Umbridge's face. "Oh, I agree, that could well have been disastrous. No, quite right, best she learn to behave from you, and I trust you will bring her up to standard. Yes, I'll see to it her placement with you isn't questioned, but then again, I wouldn't worry. You, of course, have the confidence of Lord Governor Malfoy and some of the senior members of Wizegamot."

Her tone shifted from polite to more . . . calculating. "But speaking of our esteemed Deputy Headmistress, I fear Minerva lacks the temperament for the true discipline that many of these students need."

"She _is_ far too charitable to many of her little cubs," Severus' voice held obvious disdain, "but whatever her deficiencies in discipline, her talent in teaching Transfiguration is well recorded. There is no doubt that her mastery in the subject does credit to the school."

"Yes, well, certainly so," Umbridge agreed reluctantly. "Still, her light-handed approach doesn't make for the most well-behaved of houses, does it Severus? I wonder how she earned her position of Deputy."

"Indeed," Snape drawled. "Dolores, I thank you for this stimulation conversation, but unfortunately I have an apprentice to _correct_ and a classroom to prepare. I must beg my leave. Unless there was another grievance I need to address?"

"Oh no, Severus, you were very helpful," Dolores tittered.

"Should my apprentice lose her senses again, do bring it to my attention," Severus offered. "I can trust you will do the same for members of my house?"

"Of course!" Umbridge proclaimed. "I'm going to be quite busy making changes around here, you know, and I don't think the other heads of house will be quite as willing to conform as you are. It's going to drive me to distraction to handle even three houses on my own. I am glad to have you to rely on, Severus."

"I am at your disposal," Snape replied deferentially. "Dolores."

Hermione skipped away from the door quickly and plopped herself into her desk chair before the door opened to reveal her paramour. She raised his brow at her, then rolled his eyes. He knew she'd heard. Before she could comment, he cast a series of charms on the door and came to stand in front of her small desk.

"I assume you heard my discussion with Umbridge?" Snape quirked his brow.

She nodded.

"Questions?"

"You're so . . . charming to her," Hermione said with a cringe. "How on earth can you avoid gagging?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "You are very much a product of your house. Most people would question the content of the conversation first, but no, it's the lack of vomit that warrants your concern. I'll have you know, little witch, that the rest of us understand the need for making allies in less desirable people."

"And in exchange for her deference," Hermione noted, "you punish me?"

Snape's eyes darkened. "It would be my pleasure to punish you, _Hermione_. You need only say the word."

Hermione felt a shiver down her spine at his seductive tone.

"Still," Snape's tone became more serious, "your offense gave me an opening to earn her confidence and to facilitate a defense for the students in my house foolish enough to earn her censure. These are opportunities that I cannot pass up on. Dolores Umbridge is more than just unpleasant, and she has plans that we need to know in order to deter. Surely you understand the need for a two-faced alliance."

Hermione nodded sadly. "Friends close, enemies closer. Still, she's horrible. And she's expecting me to treat her with respect now? I'm not sure I can do that."

"You need to trust my judgement, Hermione," Snape insisted. "If you want to give her her due, fine, but it must be discreet and untraceable. There will be opportunities to stop her and upset her along the line, but you must be patient and wait for them."

Hermione sank back into her seat, her heart already tired and the day only just beginning. "What are the chances of her finding a reason to give Harry detention within five minutes of meeting him?"

Snape sighed. "There's no need to find a reason. She is a mouthpiece for the Ministry propaganda within the school. She will deny the Dark Lord's return, and Potter will defy her. No need to find a reason when you can provoke one."

"Why does she like you, then?" Hermione asked. "Surely as a Death Eater you would be the first able to confirm his return."

Snape was silent.

"You haven't confirmed it?" Hermione demanded. "Why?"

"I have two masters, neither of which wish me to do so," Snape answered stiffly. "For Dumbledore, it is for my own protection; I ended the previous war redeemed for my choice in the eyes of the public. To say I had returned to his side and seen the Dark Lord would be devastating to both his and my public image."

"And You-Know-Who wouldn't want you to confirm his return anyways," Hermione finished, her heart heavy.

Severus was in the middle of a war, on both sides, and he hid it so well that sometimes even she forgot that if Voldemort called, he would answer and do whatever was asked of him. Like she would if he were in danger. The thought stopped her. She would do what was needed if he was in danger, so why couldn't she do it when he wasn't? He wanted her to act respectful to Professor Umbridge, for his own benefit, so she should do it. No, she would do it.

"I'll help you with Umbridge," Hermione murmured. "Whatever you need, Severus, I'm here."

With that, the stiff demeanor of Snape melted. She rose from her desk to embrace him and they shared a tender kiss.

"Are you ready for your first day of teaching?" Snape murmured to her, cupping her cheek.

She groaned. "Don't remind me. I'm so worried they aren't even going to listen to me. You heard what the Slytherins thought yesterday."

"Your classes won't think so," Snape pointed out. "You're a gorgeous witch willing to spare them lessons with Professor Snape and his point-heavy hand."

"Severus," Hermione laughed.

"And if they don't respect you, you take points," Snape finished. "In the first and second year classes, a single loss of points is often enough to silence them for a whole period. You'll do fine. Their practical lessons aren't until later this week, at any rate, so you just need to hold their attention for lecture."

"And how do I do that?" Hermione challenged, her tone teasing. "I'm not quite as dramatic as you."

Snape smirked. "Well, if you were to lose these concealing robes . . ."

He unbuttoned the red robes with one hand, his other arm holding her tight against him. With her corset-top now revealed to his perusal, his hands ghosted over her breasts through the fabric, making her moan.

"I can guarantee at least half the class will provide you their undivided attention," he promised, his voice smooth and deep, vibrating through her. When he used his voice on her she couldn't have cared less. She just wanted _his_ undivided attention.

"You are a dangerous man, Severus Snape," Hermione breathed.

"I believe it was you who wanted me, witch," he murmured low in his throat. "Having second thoughts?"

"Never."

That was the right answer. She knew he felt more than inadequate at times, but whenever she told him she was sure, she wanted him, or any variation he kissed her as if to reassure her that he was worthy of her choice. "I love seeing my insignia on you, Hermione," he growled against her lips. "I feel as if I have a claim to you."

"You do," Hermione assured him breathily, claimed another kiss. "I am yours."

He captured her lips firmly then, taking her breath away. After a moment, he broke away from her. "Apprentice Granger, I believe you have a class in ten minutes, and they may need to be able to open the door."

Hermione chuckled, but nodded as she disengaged from Severus' embrace. Conjuring a reflection of herself, she grimaced at the tendrils falling from her attempt at containment.

"You wrecked my hair," she complained.

Snape chuckled behind her. "I think you look thoroughly ravished."

"Exactly," she answered primly. "It's not how I should greet my class."

She heard him put down something behind her before she saw him appear next to her in the mirror with an intense look. "Allow me."

Severus slowly unentangled her hair from its elastic containment, letting it fall feely to its full waist-length curls. His fingers brushed through the messy tangled, brushing over the best of curls. Eventually all pretense fell aside and he pressed his lips to her neck.

"I prefer your natural hair," Snape murmured into her neck, raising her heartrate. "Your long curls that frame your face and drape down to your petite waists . . . You look like the nymph you are, free and beautiful and wild."

"Mmm," Hermione sighed. "Severus, I need to let the class in."

"You were so stressed," he defended with a teasingly low huskiness to his voice. "Have I relaxed you sufficiently, my witch?"

"You may have done too well at that," Hermione admitted with a blush.

Snape kissed her neck on last time and released her. "I look forward to seeing your teaching style, Apprentice Granger."

"I strive to impress you, Master," she teased.

"Witch," he growled. "Admit the runts before you tempt me into actions you are not yet prepared for."

Hermione blushed, but refused to go to him for another kiss. Instead, she stomped forward to the door and released the warding before opening it wide, revealing a set of small, concerned first-years.

"Come in and take your seats," Hermione instructed. She looked over each student as they entered, trying to upraise them before they could her. A few Slytherins had obviously been in the common room the night before and probably heard the older students berate her after she left. They had their heads lifted high, sure of themselves. The Gryffindors had obviously taken to heart the Weasley twins' chanting the night before, because they gave her wide smiles which were returned affectionately.

When the clock chimed the hour, Hermione closed the door and took to standing next to Professor Snape, who was standing in place at the front of the room.

"There will be no need for your wands yet in this class," Snape barked, making several first-years scramble to shove them in their bags. "Potions class is not about incantations and wand movements like your other subjects. It is an exact science with set results for set behaviours. Your lack of ability to perform in this class is not a result of your perceived magical ability or talent, but of your intelligence, diligence, and study. If you wish to slack off in your studies, this is not the subject nor I the instructor to allow you. In my experience, lazy idiots end up covered in the contents of their cauldrons, missing fingers, or poisoning themselves."

He said 'poisoning' with such relish that Hermione saw several students visibly gulp. She fought to keep a straight face at Severus' obvious enjoyment.

"You were informed last night that the instructor for your year level would be Apprentice Granger," Snape continued, looking at his class. "That is correct. Do not think this means your incompetence will be in any way overlooked or your grading will be any easier, however. I will be here to observe. Every. Last. Lesson. I will not allow you to go undisciplined, and I will assist if necessary."

"He means if we mess up," one voice whispered.

"Five points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn," Snape snapped at the offending boy. "Manners are important, even if you are correct. And you are correct, Mr. . . ?"

"Kent, sir."

"Mr. Kent," Snape nodded at the boy. "You are correct. If I am required to aid in your lessons you can assume you have made an error so egregious that there will be a significant loss of points. Do NOT allow this to happen."

He glared at the Gryffindor side of the room. "You will receive a grade for every class period, - including this one - every potion you brew, and then a midterm and final. If you wish to perform at even an acceptable level, you will need to perform well consistently. You all came with a Potion's Kit, size 2 pewter cauldron, and a copy of Magical Drafts and Potions, correct?"

Murmurs of 'yes' or 'yes, sir' chorused through the room, earning a nod from the Professor.

"Very well," he allowed. "Apprentice Granger, they are yours."

He swished his cloak as he moved around to take his seat behind his desk, eyes watching her and the class for a moment before opening a text to read. He was clearly doing this so she could teach as she wished, with no interference from him. She avoided feeling badly for her planned lesson, but she couldn't help it.

"Welcome to first-year potions," Hermione smiled. "I'm sure Professor Snape welcomes you to his class as well."

She could nearly hear the eye-roll behind her.

"I am your teacher for this year, at least," she told them, "so I think you and I should get to know each other before we go about the rest of the semester. I'm sure you all have questions for me, and I would like to get to know you a little bit."

She summoned a chair to her wandlessly and sat, lowering herself and making herself more approachable to the students.

"This is the only time this semester that I will allow personal questions to be asked during class," Hermione told them. "Ask anything you want. The only rule is that when you have a question, you raise your hand and when you're called upon you give me your name. Seem fair?"

The students nodded, so Hermione waved her hand. "Alright, who has a question?"

Nearly the entire class raised their hands. She called on the first row.

"You."

"Hannah Clements, ma'am," the tiny Gryffindor introduced herself nervously. "Is it true you're friends with Harry Potter?"

"Harry is one of my best friends," Hermione answered happily. "Has been since my first year. He's a perfectly normal guy, though, so don't feel shy about saying hi to him in the common room."

She pointed to the next hand.

"John Steinwick," the boy said. "Is Harry Potter telling the truth? Has You-Know-Who returned?"

A book snapped shut behind her. She turned to see Professor Snape no longer sitting there relaxed, instead glaring at her as if she had just killed someone. The room froze.

"Yes, Apprentice Granger," Snape ground out. "Tell us about the delusions of your supposed friend. That seems like a wonderful use of class time."

Hermione tried to guess what he wanted her to do. Deny it? No, he wouldn't expect her to. But anything she said reflected on him, and she frowned as she turned to answer Mister Steinwick.

"Harry is certainly not crazy, if that is your question," Hermione told him firmly. She should avoid answering. "But if you're the kind of person who believes nonsense tabloids like the Prophet, I'm afraid that no matter what I say you'll decide it's not flowery or elaborate enough to believe. So I'll simply say this; if you want to know the truth of what really is going on, you can't rely on what you read or hear. Take a look at what is happening. Take a look at the deaths all across the country that the Ministry ignores or writes off. Look at the death of Cedric Diggory, which was clearly the result of an Unforgivable. Look at the fear. Whether you believe You-Know-Who is back or not, something is clearly wrong and you need to prepare yourselves."

"Apprentice Granger," Snape snapped behind her, "now is not the time for your sanctimonious speeches. If you insist on using class time for this pointless activity, I suggest you move on to the next question."

Wrong response. Hermione felt ashamed but nodded, thanking John before pointing to the next hand. A Slytherin.

"Cassius Fawley," the boy announced. "And is it true you're only fifteen?"

"It's my sixteenth birthday on the nineteenth," Hermione told him with a secret smile. "Why, are you planning on getting me a present? It won't make me go easy on you, but it is a kind gesture nonetheless."

"Actually, I was wondering if you had a boyfriend," the boy announced with a wink, earning giggles from around the room.

Hermione laughed, then immediately covered her mouth to stop the escaping laughter. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. It's just . . . Mister Fawley, which of your classmates dared you to ask that?"

The boy, not used to being caught, finally looked a little embarrassed.

"It's alright," Hermione said. She mentally crossed her fingers and answered his question, "No, I am currently not in a relationship. To those of you who are about to ask, I am NOT dating Harry Potter, and I'm NOT dating Viktor Krum, although we do still owl each other every now and again. Did that answer your question?"

The boy nodded. She thanks him and called on a girl in the back row.

"I'm Helena Avery," the little girl announced. "I was wondering how a Gryffindor like you came to be Professor Snape's apprentice."

Hermione nodded, but hesitated, hoping Snape would interject. She hadn't asked what their cover story was, and she wasn't willing to do it.

Hearing her hesitation, Snape interjected. "After receiving her NEWT scores, Headmaster Dumbledore approached me to apprentice Miss Granger. You will find, Miss Avery, that houses no longer matter when you graduate, only how you conducted yourself. Apprentice Granger's scores speak for her, and they speak highly."

She motioned to the next student. "What did you score?"

The rest of the class was relatively easy. When they finally ran out of questions, she took them through their Potion's Kits and familiarized them with their equipment, including reminding them to never sharpen their knives magically for class, as it would affect the magical properties of whatever they're cutting. By the end of class, she was happy and feeling like her earlier mistake was forgotten. Almost. When the First Years started carting out of the room, Severus pulled Hermione towards his desk and cast a _Muffliato_ around them

"That was not wise, Hermione," Snape told her sternly.

"I know," Hermione sighed. "But if I didn't answer they'd think he hadn't come back."

"Your response was fine," Snape dismissed quickly. "I was referring to letting yourself be questioned by toddlers in the first place."

"So . . . not doing that for the second years, got it," Hermione affirmed.

"Good girl," Snape approved, smirking at her. His eyes darkened slightly. "In case you were wondering, I consider you very much in a relationship, little witch. Don't you forget it."

The second years had a harder time calling her Apprentice Granger, but overall the class went well. She prepared them for the potions curriculum for the year, and got them to cut Murtlap Tentacles for their next lesson.

The next lesson was the one she was dreading; Fifth Year Double Potions. They had 25 minutes before that class was supposed to start and Severus, sensing her nerves, took her aside and into the supply cupboard.

"You have no reason to be worried," Snape told her emphatically.

"Tell me what I need to do," Hermione told – or begged – him. "I don't want to mess up in front of Malfoy."

"Do everything I say and nothing I don't," Snape said simply. "This is not your class to lead, Hermione, it is mine. You will stand at my side and listen as I give them instruction. When I tell you, you will walk around and make sure your idiot classmates don't muck up the Draught of Peace. If you do something I wouldn't want, I will tell you. If your classmates disrespect you, I will punish them. That is all there is to it."

Hermione took a few Occlumency breaths, trying to clear her mind, but nodded.

"Good girl," Severus approved gently, brushing his hand over her curls gently. "Now, come help me set up for the lesson."

Unfortunately, Harry and Ron decided this would be the first day in recorded history where they would come to Potion's early. Professor Snape was putting away the minced Murtlap tentacles and Hermione had on a set of protective gloves and was dividing up the powdered moonstone manually when Harry and Ron gingerly entered the room.

"'Mione!" Ron and Harry were clearly relieved not to see Professor Snape around, so they deposited their cauldrons and books onto their desks and ran up to greet her.

"That outfit is . . . different, Hermione," Harry noticed, especially noting the corset.

"It went with my boots," Hermione joked at him. "Hey, if I live in the dungeons, might as well look a little like I fit in. Mrs. Weasley would never let me wear it, that's for sure."

"You look _hot_ ," Ron grinned. "Wanna go to Hogsmeade with me?"

"In your dreams," Hermione teased her friend. "So, what rumours are circulating that brought you down here early? I know there has to be at least one."

"Did a first year really ask you out?" Ron asked her, clearly excited.

Hermione looked at Harry with an incredulous look. He shrugged. "The first years kept coming up to us asking if we were going to beat him up for you. We told them you can handle yourself."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly. I stupidly opened myself up for questions and a first-year asked if I had a boyfriend. He didn't ask me out."

"Thank Merlin for small mercies," she heard Severus drawl from behind her. "I was nearly forced to take points from my own house for propositioning a member of staff."

Hermione laughed before she could help herself. Ron and Harry looked at her like she was insane. She coughed awkwardly.

"However, it will be my pleasure to take five points from you, Mister Weasley, for the offense," Snape jeered. "Five points, Mister Weasley. Apprentice Granger is off-limits to students, is that clear?"

"So she can't date?" Ron demanded. "Who do you think you are?"

"Ron!" Hermione chastised quickly. "He is my Master, remember?"

"Mister Potter, Weasley, is there a reason you're distracting my apprentice?" Snape intoned with menace.

"We're here early and wanted to talk," Harry snapped at him. "Is that not allowed?"

"Harry!" Hermione yelped.

"Five points for cheek, Potter," Snape ground out. "I suggest, if you are here early in the future, you find your seat and prepare for the lesson. You'll need the additional time to even perform moderately well, if I recall your dismal performance from last year correctly."

They looked ready to pounce on Severus, who was enjoying every second of the interaction. She needed to diffuse the situation before it got worse.

"They are students, Master Snape," Hermione said deferentially. "Can I instruct them on the potion for today?"

Snape's glare was lessened when he looked on her. "Very well. I suppose Potter could use the additional assistance. Finish dividing up the moonstone and fetch the syrup of hellebore from the store cupboard and then you may pursue an _academic_ discussion with your peers before the lesson begins."

Hermione jumped to perform his instruction. Harry and Ron trudged over to their table unhappily, determined to ignore Professor Snape's instruction to read ahead. Finally, with ten minutes left before class, she put the vials of hellebore on the supply table and jumped over to her friends' table, happy with Severus' concession. She found out quickly they were not.

"How can you let him boss you around like that, Hermione?" Harry demanded when she came over.

"He's really not that bad, Harry," Hermione defended him quickly. "He just . . . hates people."

That came out wrong, but her friends both guffawed at her descriptor.

"I didn't mean it like that," Hermione snapped. "I'm his apprentice, I'm supposed to do the grunt work for him. It's not really bossing me around. And you know, if you earned his respect, he really is quite pleasant company."

Her friends clearly didn't believe her.

"And overlording over your dating life?" Ron demanded, angry. "That's wrong! How do you not cuss him out when he does that?"

Hermione tried to reply as casually as she could. "He expects me to work hard for my Mastery, Ron. I'm not supposed to have spare time to date, let alone allow my focus to be anywhere but my studies. Most Masters expect the same thing."

She was out of time; the first of the Slytherins were coming in. She took their potion text from them and opened it to the Draught of Peace before putting it on the table. "This is what you're brewing today. Don't forget the hellebore, and make sure you stir your potion while adding the powdered quills so you don't add too much and overshoot the turquoise colouring."

Then, leaning forward, she whispered, "Should I come see you in the common room tonight?"

Both boys nodded eagerly.

"We'll let you in at seven," Harry told her. "Unless . . . you're a teacher, don't you have the passwords?"

"Only for Slytherin," Hermione admitted. Seeing their excited looks she shook her head. "Don't even think about it."

She left to go to the front of the classroom and approached Severus. He cast the ward-like muffling charm non-verbally again and leaned in to speak with her.

"Your _friend_ asked you to Hogsmeade," Severus commented, his eyes narrowed.

"He's been doing that since we made up for the Yule Ball fiasco," Hermione dismissed his concerns easily. "He wasn't convinced I was a girl, and so he sometimes reminds me that he remembers. It's what friends do."

"Really?" Snape quirked a brow. "I'll suspend my disbelief."

"Are you going to treat Harry this way all year?" Hermione asked. "Not that you don't normally, but . . . I mean, you got more comfortable with me. You could-"

"Even if I didn't despise Potter and his attitude," Snape replied, "how do you think the Dark Lord would react to know I treated his enemy with even a modicum of kindness?"

Her stomach sank. Of course.

"The same way he'll react if I disobey you publicly," Hermione acknowledged. "I understand. I just wish . . ."

Snape nodded sympathetically. She wished she could kiss him, but even if the class couldn't hear their words, they would still see even the slightest affection she offered him. Still, her magic surrounding him gave her a portion of the intimacy she craved, and she relished in the feeling in its place.

He leaned closer to her, his eyes intense. "Should I survive the conflict, and should you still want me by your side at the end of it, I will consider reconciling with Potter. Please understand that I'm not dismissing your friends out of sheer prejudice."

"Severus, it's fine," Hermione comforted him. Her magic encircled him in a happy embrace. "Ready for your first class of the day?"

Snape growled at her. "Impertinent chit. Watch your mouth before I'm forced to occupy it."

At her blush he dismissed the charm. "You may wish to spend this time recording your grades for the students while you have a free moment, Apprentice Granger. Your evaluation of their daily performances is essential for their grade, after all."

He motioned to her corner with the desk, and she understood that as his direction for where she was to begin the class. She quickly ducked over to her station and took out her potion's text and her attendance roll. She wasn't yet comfortable giving them grades for just showing up, but no one had done anything wrong. She proceeded with the mundane task of giving them all perfect scores for simply showing up. She was grateful for the task when Draco Malfoy walked in.

He strutted into the classroom like he owned the room, and in a way, his tattling mouth did. She felt his eyes over her immediately.

"Good morning Professor Snape," Malfoy said loudly, making her eyes involuntarily spasm to his before she stared back down at her parchment. "How is it having Granger around?"

" _Apprentice_ Granger, Draco," Snape chastised quickly. "Is there a point to your question?"

"I was just wondering if she was doing a good job meeting you _needs_ , Professor _,"_ Malfoy mocked.

"Shut it, ferret!" Ron yelled.

Hermione forced herself to keep her face neutral.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mister Weasley," Snape snapped. "Unless you'd care to enlighten me to why you deemed Mister Malfoy's question inappropriate?"

Ron's face went red. "He-He was insulting Hermione!"

"Is that all?" Snape asked raging red-head. "Nothing specific, just that he _insulted_ her? Well, Draco, what have you to say? Was your comment an insult?"

"Of course not, Professor," he said innocently. "Who would think that? I mean, besides Weasley, obviously."

"I didn't-"

Snape cut him off. "Enough, Mister Weasley."

"Hermione!" Ron begged at her, earning her looks from everyone in the class. Including Snape.

"Well, Apprentice?" Snape sneered. "Do you have some input on the matter?"

Hermione took a calming breath. "Ronald, I am perfectly capable of fighting my own battles so sit down and be quiet. I am not your peer in this room, I am Master Snape's apprentice and you would be well served to remember that."

At Snape's satisfied smirk and Ron's blustering exterior, she turned to Malfoy with a neutral expression. "Mister Malfoy, I thank you for inquiring as to my usefulness to Master Snape. It was very . . . _thoughtful_ ," Hermione nearly spat the word out. It became hard to obey Severus' directions with the blonde ferret smirking at her like he just received her for Christmas. "I'm certain you didn't mean any offense, and your handling of Mister Weasley's outburst was controlled where his was not. Take a point for your house."

At her final sentence, the class went silent, and Draco's smirk turned into a victorious smile. "Thank you, _Apprentice_ Granger. Your time with our Head of House has obviously paid off."

Hermione gripped her quill tightly in her hand, but faked a smile. "It has been very educational, Mister Malfoy. Thank you."

Snape was clearly proud with her reaction to him. "As pleasant as this exchange is, I believe potions class is a time for potions, not lessons in decorum. Take your seats."

Malfoy slunk into his seat with Zabini to his side, his smile not waning in the slightest at his godfather's censure. She took a peek at Ron and Harry. They were both staring at her in blatant disbelief. She sent them an apologetic smile before focusing on Severus, who was now standing ominously in the front of the class.

"I _could_ give you all useless welcomes and meaningless witticisms like your other professors, but I'm not here to pamper you," Snape began. "This is your OWLS year, and should any of you wish to continue in Potions beyond this year it will require consistent effort and study. I only accept Outstanding scores in my Sixth Year classes. Many of you have performed so dismally in previous years that to perform at that level for your OWLS would take nothing short of a miracle, but know that I expect even the most incompetent among you to achieve an Acceptable or face my displeasure."

She saw Ron grimace at Snape's declaration. "Since this is clearly a lofty goal, it is my duty to prepare you for the potions you may be required to prepare for your OWLS potions practical. Turn to page 79 of your text."

The class fumbled for a moment, except Ron and Harry.

"This is the recipe for the Draught of Peace," Snape informed them. "This is one of the more challenging potions that may appear on your OWLS examination, and as such will be used today to measure how far you still have to go in order to perform to an Outstanding level. You have the period to attempt a semi-potent brew of the potion."

Snape motioned to Hermione and she came to his side. "Apprentice Granger will be monitoring your progress with this particular potion. I will allow you to use her as a resource for today's lesson, and _only_ today's lesson. All questions will be directed to her. Will that be an issue?"

A couple of Slytherin hands raised. "Mr. Zabini?"

"Wouldn't it be more useful to ask you, Professor?" the dark-skinned boy asked. "Considering you actually took your OWLS?"

"Your concern, while obviously shared with your peers, is ultimately unfounded," Snape corrected him coolly. "OWLS examinations are used by the Ministry and Hogwarts to evaluate your progress and to determine your academic future. Apprentice Granger's NEWTS are sufficient to aid you in a potion of this level. Miss Greengrass?"

"Apologies, sir, but is sufficient really what we want for our OWLS year?" she pointed out.

"Apprentice Granger, would you permit me to share your NEWTS scores with the class?" Snape asked her. "Or perhaps, as it seems this will be recurring an issue, I should put a copy on my wall."

She bowed her head. "Whatever you decide, Master Snape, but I'd be proud to have my results displayed so openly by you."

That may have been excessive, but Severus' eyes showed he was pleased. "Very well. Fetch them for me."

She ran to her satchel and retrieved the rolled-up scroll. With a simple charm, he copied it and enlarged it so the class could see and hung it on his wall. Everyone in the class rose to peek at the strange occurrence that was Hermione Granger's early NEWTS.

"Do you believe her score to be sufficient, Miss Greengrass?" Snape sneered at his student, motioning to her near perfect Outstanding. "I assure you, I did, however should your _vast_ and _infallible_ experience deem otherwise . . ."

When she didn't respond, he turned to her. "I didn't hear you, Miss Greengrass. What do you think of your peer's NEWTS score?"

"Her score seems . . . fine, Professor," Miss Greengrass replied diplomatically.

Snape smirked. "Ten points from Slytherin."

At their outrage, Snape snapped. "Silence! Ten points, five from Mister Zabini and five from Miss Greengrass for wasting the time that should be spent brewing by telling me how to conduct my own class. Does anyone else want to share their doubts as to my competence, or that of my apprentice?"

Silence from both sets of students. "Then I suggest you begin before you waste any more time."

Snape went back behind his desk to observe his class, leaving Hermione next to the table of supplies for the class. She observed neutrally as people came up to retrieve their ingredients. Harry tried to leave the syrup of hellebore, but she put a vial in his hand quickly. "You won't have time to come back up for it, Harry. Take it."

When the class saw her give Harry help, they started asking her questions on their own. She patrolled the aisles, watching for questions and errors. It was actually great to be able to help them without Professor Snape calling her out for it.

"Hermione!" Neville called out in a fit of panic as his potion turned a canary yellow.

"It's fine, Neville," Hermione said, moving to his side of the room. "You added-"

Hermione felt a spell shoot at her feet and instinctively reflected it. It wasn't until Malfoy tipped face-first over his desk and spilled moonstone into his face that she realized exactly what she'd done.

"Malfoy!" she cried out. "Don't open your eyes!"

Severus moved fast and reflexively, clearing all the moonstone from his godson's face before pouring a neutralizing mixture they'd prepared yesterday over Malfoy and into his mouth before the ingredient could start burning him.

"What happened?" Snape growled at his godson, not angrily, but in concern.

"It was Granger!" Malfoy coughed out. "She cast a tripping hex!"

"What?" Hermione cried, outraged. "You lying, vile-"

"Apprentice Granger!" Snape roared. "You will always address students with respect, is that understood?"

Hermione stepped back in shock and horror. She felt tears prickle her vision as she looked down. "Yes, Master Snape."

"Now, Apprentice, tell me exactly what happened," Severus ordered, his voice low and dangerous.

"I felt a hex and deflected it," Hermione told him. "It was reflex, I'm sorry."

"I see." He was quiet. "Apprentice Granger, regardless of whether you intended it or not, stray spells are always dangerous in a potions setting. To make certain you learn this lesson, you will be cleaning the classroom tonight without your wand."

"Yes, Master," Hermione muttered, refusing to look at him.

"That's not fair!" Harry yelled out. "He tried to hex her!"

"Five points from Gryffindor for your outburst, Mister Potter," Snape said quickly.

"Mister Malfoy," Snape continued, moving the infamous Slytherin to his feet, "I believe all the moonstone has been neutralized, but I will have my apprentice take you to the Hospital Wing to be sure. Will that be a problem?"

"Not for me." Malfoy shot a coy look at her. "Granger?"

"Not at all," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "It would be my _privilege_ to make up for my error."

She went to the classroom door and opened it for the Slytherin prince. Malfoy pranced through the door, every bit the king he knew he was. She moved to follow him.

"Apprentice Granger?" Severus called after her. She turned to look at him, his harsh face the opposite of what he wanted to see. "We will be discussing this further after classes."

She nodded her head, and left the room with a slam of the door behind her.

Malfoy was waiting for her with a self-satisfied smirk. "Well, well, well, Granger, looks like I've gotten you to myself."

She rolled her eyes. "Malfoy, I may be your peer, but right now I am a member of the staff, and I'm escorting you to the hospital wing. Come on."

She started walking and was not surprised when he followed after a few moments.

"I'll give you that one," Malfoy sneered at her, "you somehow became an apprentice. But you saw how Snape reacted back there. I'm the important on here, Granger."

"Let me guess, you want something?" Hermione mocked. "Look, Malfoy, I'm Professor Snape's apprentice, he's already ordered me to treat you and your fellow Slytherins with respect. Anything else? All bets are off."

"I don't want you to behave, Granger." Malfoy suddenly jumped at her and pushed her off into a nearby alcove to pin her to the wall. She let him, for the moment. His silver eyes looked into hers without a hint of the violence she saw in Moody's. "In fact, quite the opposite."

His earnest expression made her fight of the impending grin. "Malfoy, I'm flattered, really, but I'm not your type."

"Damnit, Granger, not that!" Malfoy backed off with a frustrated rake through his hair. "I want you to fight the apprenticeship. I want you to make Snape release you."

That shocked Hermione right down to her toes. He had to know that Severus worked for Voldemort, which meant . . . was Malfoy concerned for her. He didn't want her to be used or killed by Death Eaters. He was looking out for her.

"Why would I do that?" Hermione demanded half-hearted, mind reeling at the implications.

"You don't want to apprentice to Snape," Malfoy tried. "He showed us your scores. You can apprentice with anyone in the country. I can introduce you to other Masters, _better_ Masters. You don't need this."

"I want to stay at Hogwarts, Malfoy," Hermione countered. "Harry's here, Ron-"

"They'll want you to survive the year," Malfoy told her harshly. "Snape isn't a kind Master, Granger. You don't know him like I do. Please, trust me, you won't last a year with him. He'll hurt you. You need to find something else. _Anything_ else. Study abroad, go muggle, become a freaking trophy wife – you're pretty enough – just get away from Snape."

Malfoy was trying to help her. It was too surreal. She needed to discuss this with Severus, but right now she was too disconnected by his extremes in her treatment. She needed time to think. Slowly, she nodded her head in fake acknowledgement. "I trust you on this, Malfoy. I don't know why," good embellishment, "but I do."

Malfoy visibly relaxed at her words before he offered her a smirk. "Now, you were taking me to the Hospital Wing?"


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

* * *

The rest of the day was filled with tension between Hermione and Severus. She kept things formal at lunch with his colleagues, giving him nothing but innocent responses to his double-edged questions. He cornered her during their second twenty-five minute prep time, but she simply pointed to his instruction to speak only respectfully, which she couldn't do during school hours. He left it at that, waiting for to come to him.

By the time the Seventh-Year Double Potions class was out, Hermione had calmed down and rationalized his behavior. She knew he was protecting his image. She would have wanted him to do it. The only issue was that her blood was still pumping adrenaline from the attack and the consequences of her reaction. The difference was that she was ashamed of her reaction, no matter how justified. It made her unwilling to admit to a mistake or to accept his disconnected, cold censure.

When he locked the classroom door, the faced each other for a moment. He looked so . . . pained. Hermione lost all her self-righteous anger and let her magic react to him once again.

"Hermione," he murmured, his voice imploring, "I'm sorry."

Hermione extended her arms to him. The smallest expression of relief flitted over his face before he took her into his arms.

"I thought you were angry with me," Severus murmured into the top of her head.

"I was embarrassed and hurt," Hermione murmured into his chest. "But it wasn't your fault. I just . . . don't handle correction well. You know that from my essays."

Snape chuckled, and the sound soothed her. "Promise you will never mention your previous schoolwork and you're forgiven."

"Deal," Hermione laughed, burying her face into his chest with a sighing breath. Her magic relaxed at even the herbal smell of him, and his proximity seemed to invigorate it. "I'm sorry too."

"There will be times you think my reaction is, er, _excessive_ ," Severus admitted, "and that is because it is. I can't afford to analyze every action while in company. Oftentimes, when I'm in class or in front of the Dark Lord, I do not think at all. In those situations, I let the worst of me out. There have been times in class where I've wished to cast the Cruciatus on Potter or even you. There are many, many times that I enjoy the pain the Dark Lord wishes me to inflict. I may not be a true Death Eater in loyalty, Hermione, but in intent . . ."

He didn't finish, but she felt the heaviness of his words and their supposed conclusion. She squeezed him tighter. "You've been playing a role for so long that it's a part of you. But I don't believe for a second that that's all there is. I understand, Severus. I understand."

"I will try to curb that side of me around you from now on," he promised.

"Don't," Hermione insisted. "It's not wrong, Severus. I overreacted to something I knew was coming. Let it go."

He held her tightly against his body for a moment. With the tension and the guilt now abated, Hermione's thoughts drifted back to Malfoy.

"If there was someone who needed to be saved from becoming a Death Eater like you, would you do it?" Hermione asked quietly.

He was quiet above her. After a moment of thought, she heard him breath, "Draco."

He knew. He pulled away from her then and looked at her, his eyes probing.

"He tried to warn me today," she told him. "He told me to do anything I could to end the apprenticeship with you, telling me I wouldn't last the year."

Snape narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Those were his words? 'You wouldn't last the year'?"

Hermione nodded, watching his reaction.

His brilliant mind seemed to flit through possibilities in his mind.

"I will need to inquire of my Lord," Severus said finally, his words strained. "He might tell me his plans for you if I inquire."

"And Draco?"

"We will need to involve the Headmaster," he admitted grudgingly. "Taking you as an apprentice has earned me both approval and scorn within the ranks, however it does leave me in a precarious situation. I have been in the Dark Lord's good graces for far too long, there are those who will do whatever they can to accuse me should anything go wrong. I cannot afford to be involved in any extraction involved with Mister Malfoy, as I will be required to be inscrutable when it occurs. For that, we need the old man's cunning."

"So, after dinner?" Hermione quipped with a small smile.

Severus upraised her. "I hope your change has not left you with a Weasleyan appetite, Miss Granger."

"Less of one, actually," Hermione told him happily. "Being around you fixed that. Your energy . . . it feeds me as much as a good meal. I could probably never eat and be perfectly fine."

"Poppy would disagree, as would I," he warned her.

"Oh," Hermione said nervously, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound like I'm feeding off of you."

"Do not concern yourself with what you take, only what you give me." Severus paused, looking at her with apprehensive eyes. "From our conversation, am I to believe you have no further qualms with me?"

"Of course not, Severus."

His eyes darkened under her watch, sending shivers through her spine. "Good. Because I've been thinking of this all day."

With a suddenness that stole her breath, he pulled her towards him and caught her lips in a searing kiss. Without pause he moved to push her up against his teaching desk, forcing her hips into place against his. She moaned against his mouth at the new sensation, spurring him on. He ground against her provocatively. Hermione nearly missed it, though, as a wave of magic shuddered through her as her desire climbed. Her magic wanted him. Wanted to bond with him. Wanted to take him. Severus.

"Fantasizing about your professor, Miss Granger?" Severus rumbled against her mouth.

"Not at all," Hermione breathed against his lips. "My fantasies are of my Master."

It was Severus' turn to moan against his witch. Of all the things she could have said, that was not the one he expected. Deep within himself, the desire to finally have control of something in his life was being carefully extracted and put on display for the tantalizing beauty in his arms. He was falling for her, for the way she seemed to give herself up to his control. He would take that as long as he could.

"Your clothes are far too provocative, witch," Severus growled at her, using his hand to trace up her corset. It brushed the tops of her soft breasts, eliciting a shudder from the young woman. "I imagine you wearing this tending to your potions, standing in the door of your own apothecary. To me, you look every bit the Potion's Mistress I will make you into. I cannot tell you how it excites me."

She moaned a little at the thought. That's exactly what she wanted to look like, an attractive, strong, woman of a Potions Mistress. She kissed him frantically, her magic pushing and pushing.

"You are stunning, Hermione," her name sounded like a thousand accolades at once.

Her magic shocked at her and spiraled around them both. It seemed to override her brain, pushing against her self-control in a vie for possession of her body. Her magic wanted her to claim Severus. Take him. When the sensation started to overwhelm her, she realized what would happen if it continued to build. She pushed him back then, not willingly, but on instinct. He froze, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"My magic's going haywire," Hermione breathed out in explanation. "If we go any further, I can't guarantee it will stay under control."

Snape snickered at that. "Are you sure, Miss Granger, that it is not your hormone's that are becoming unruly?"

"It's Hermione." Hermione stuck out her tongue impertinently, making his snicker change into a deep-throated chuckle.

"If there was ever a time to call you Miss Granger, it would be when that insolent tongue of yours decides to act childish," Snape told her. "Am I to assume that further physical demonstrations are unwelcome? I would love to show that tongue exactly where it belongs."

Hermione stuck her tongue out again, just to show him. "It belongs wherever it very well pleases, Severus Snape," she retorted. "And yes, we should avoid anything physical until it calms down. Sorry if _your_ hormones can't take it."

Snape's nostrils flared at the insult, but she saw the smirk fight for his lips. "I have decades more self-control, witch. It will be you begging for my affection before I cave to your efforts."

Hermione giggled uncharacteristically, earning an infamous eyebrow from her esteemed mentor, friend, and love. Luckily, her magic was settling a little bit around her, making her more comfortable.

"Are you well enough to come to the Great Hall?" Snape asked her, actual concern breaking the teasing humour they'd built into the situation.

"I really think it was only meant for you, whatever it was," Hermione concluded out loud to him. "Everyone else should be fine . . . it just, well, it overwhelmed me."

"And this was bad?" Snape inquired. "being overwhelmed with me?"

Hermione thought about it. Snape overwhelming her was still within her realm of control, and within her experience of the last 18-ish years. With her new magic doing the overwhelming, it was more primal. Magic and lust-driven rather than affection and lust. It made her feel like an out-of-control animal, needing to mate. It had everything to do with who she was with, but it was a claiming, violent thing she felt built up inside of her. The distinction seemed slight when she compared them intellectually, but emotionally it felt less than human.

"You're doing nothing for my pride, little witch," Snape continued, his tone forcibly casual but his eyes sharp on her. "Though I have little experience, a beautiful woman pushing me away seems to suggest a lack of attraction."

"It's not you, I swear," Hermione reassured him, now calm enough to approach and wrap her arms around his waist. "How do I explain it? It was like . . . like cavemen!"

"Cavemen?" Snape repeated, his voice low.

"No, not you, me!" Hermione exclaimed, trying to find the right words. "It was completely, 'me, Tarzan. You Jane,' of me. Er, muggle reference, right. Ummm . . . it was primal."

"You've just described all sex, well done," he announced sarcastically.

"It wasn't the normal lust, Severus!" Hermione argued, blushing. "It was like . . . you know how veela smell the blood of their mate and immediately start, er, going at it, like they can't help it even if there are other veela around?"

"Your point?"

Hermione blushed a shade of crimson at this point, she was sure. She was talking to Severus about sex! "It felt like that. Like my magic was prompting me to, er, mate with you. Not just sex, I mean, er, obviously it would include it, but it was more than sex. It was something else. And it was getting stronger. I don't know if I could have held out if it kept building."

Severus' hands now raised to touch her blushing cheeks, his eyes no longer tense and frustrated but mildly amused. He stroked her reddened cheeks and added to her embarrassment.

"If you're looking for my consent, _Hermione_ , you had it the moment I agreed to be yours," Severus told her softly. "Don't feel like you need to deny your nature."

"I'm not denying it, I just want to know where it leads," Hermione pleaded. "I don't like losing control, and my magic was about to do just that without me knowing what the consequences are. I won't do that to you, please don't push me."

"You think so little of me as to force you into relations, Miss Granger?" His voice was dark.

Hermione stepped back in shock. "No! Never!"

Their magics mingled, letting Hermione know that he was not angry. She could feel that he needed reassurance, that he needed her to remind him that he was physically desirable. It was hard to do while he was glaring at her.

"Then you have no reason to worry," Severus said smoothly, not betraying the turmoil Hermione felt with her magic. "I would be the most deplorable of men if I expected that of you, given your . . . inexperience. Try not to let this worry you."

Regardless of the fact that his magic was telling her of his uncertainty, Hermione still felt threatened by the approach. Hermione could feel herself tensing, so just as she had when she learned occlumency, she forced her body to calm and her mind to see clearly. It took a moment to notice that he was not angry with her, merely what he believed she thought of _him_. He needed her reassurances. She checked her magic, which was now residing calmly in the space around them both. It would hold.

Assured that her magic would not overreact, Hermione stepped into Severus' space and brought her lips to his. She attempted to reassure him that she wanted him, that she wasn't rejecting him, that she thought nothing badly of him with only the kiss as her weapon. It took a moment for Severus to lose his rigid posture and allow a slow, tentative response to her kiss.

Finally, when they broke away, Hermione kept her face close to his and spoke directly into his face.

"I want you, Severus. I was merely warning you that the slightest push could land me in your bed. Not an unpleasant prospect," she grinned up at him, trying to break the tension, "but I'm, er, not ready for that. That does not mean your touches, your kisses, _you_ are unwelcomed and unwanted by me. Quite the opposite, in fact."

She trailed her hands up and down his staunch black teaching robes, letting them wander. "I would be pleased if this were to happen often."

She loved how his eyes betrayed everything, even if he didn't allow his body to. His eyes buried fiercely into hers, darkened and intense and full of the very sex her magic wanted.

"Now," Hermione disengaged from him and went to gather her robes, "dinner?"

SSHGSSHGSSHG

Severus and the Headmaster seemed to have a kind of code over the dinner table. They exchanged a sort of coded language talking about potion ingredients. Once Dumbledore left the table, Severus rose as well and followed. Never in their conversation had they agreed to a meeting, but it must have been in there somewhere.

With the assurance that Severus was addressing the issue with Draco, Hermione finished her dinner at the staff table and had some free time on her hands. With two hours left until she was meeting the boys at the Fat Lady, she decided to check with Madame Pomphrey to make sure the potions inventory was plentiful.

The hospital wing was empty, only being the first day of the semester. She went straight to the back room, thinking that if Madame Pomphrey wasn't there she could check the stores herself. The elderly matron was in her office, looking over various paperwork before she raised her head to see the young Apprentice approach. She gave Hermione a dear old smile.

"Apprentice Granger, or should I call you Hermione?" Poppy greeted conversationally.

"Hermione's fine," Hermione said happily. "I had a few hours and Professor Snape told me he usually checks the stores at the beginning of the new year. Do you have brewing needs?"

Madame Pomphrey just shook her head. "Severus keeps us so well stocked, I'm afraid I don't have anything for you to do."

"Oh, that's alright," Hermione reassured her. "I was going to spend time with my friends some tonight, before my Master starts piling on the work and essays and everything."

Madame Pomphrey looked at her fondly. "Of course, dear. Before you go, however, may I look over you? Severus hasn't let me near you since your _episode_ the other week, and I was hoping…"

"Of course," she agreed. "This'll be great for a journal, wouldn't it? Just keep me anonymous."

Poppy chuckled at the girl and moved to put her on an infirmary bed. A few well-cast privacy charms and she finally had the girl alone.

"So, what's the biggest change with the magic?" Poppy asked, waving her wand over the girl.

She blushed at her first thought. There was no way she was telling Poppy about her raging libido and how it seemed to react to Severus' magic.

"Er, built-in lie detector," she lied. "Professor Snape can't lie to me about me."

"Because of magical spikes and responses to stress?" Madame Pomphrey prompted.

"Yeah."

She looked pensively at Hermione. "Have you tried it on the students yet? Say, your friends? Or is it only for Severus?"

Hermione instinctively wanted to say it was only Severus, but then she thought about it. She really _hadn't_ tried extending her magic to anyone else. If she could find and mingle with their magic with any of the same results that she had with Severus, she supposed she might.

"I actually haven't tried," Hermione admitted. "I'm actually meeting the boys – sorry, Harry and Ron – in an hour or so. Maybe if I tested it out then . . ."

She reached her magic towards the witch, testing. She could feel the witch's magic, wholesome and fairly powerful, but it didn't want to mingle. It was fast against the woman's skin and rigid in its rejection.

"I can't interact with yours," Hermione told her, still unfocused. "I'll try on some others later, see if it's the same with everyone."

"I would love to hear the result," Poppy told her cheerily. When her wand lit up, a secret smile lit up. "Well, Hermione, I take it you and Severus have worked it out?"

Hermione looked confusedly at the old lady, but blushed and nodded anyways. "How would my body reflect that?"

"You're positively overflowing with hormones, dear," Poppy explained. "Estrogen, progesterone, oxytocin, dopamine, and vasopressin are all off the charts. There's an increase of testosterone from the last scan as well. They all indicate you've had sex recently."

 _What?_ "We haven't had sex!" Hermione exclaimed loudly. Then realizing the Hospital Wing door was still open, Hermione lowered her voice. "I mean, I'm not ready for that. This feels all very fast."

Madame Pomphrey looked at her wand as if it had betrayed her, but wrote everything down on Hermione's chart with it. Looking at the paper, she frowned. The girl's chart was a series of contradictions that it hadn't been when she was asleep after her transformation. But they looked familiar . . .

"One moment, dear, I need to check something," Madame Pomphrey announced.

She returned to her office and turned to the medical files of from the previous year. She flipped through quickly before coming to the offending file. Opening it and putting the charts side by side, she nodded to herself. Very similar, she noted. She brought the charts back with her to the bedside of Miss Granger, who was laying there nervously.

"You remember Fleur Delacour?" Madame Pomphrey asked her, to which Hermione responded with a nod. "Your results reminded me of her own results, and I thought to compare your charts. Now, Miss Delacour is only a quarter veela, and her levels for all of those things were high enough to be considered abnormal. It would be related to the veela's sexual nature."

"But leanan sidhe aren't sexual, are they?" Hermione said nervously. "I mean, some of the stories have them portrayed like that, and I think it depends on the stories-"

Madame Pomphrey cut off her babbling. "If it disturbs you to think of it as the hormones related to sex, think of it more as reproductive. Veelas have one of the strongest mating drives in the magical world, and their attractive exterior, while magical, is linked directly with reproduction. Their bodies refuse to let the body be in anything less than its most fertile state, and so without contraception – and sometimes with – they mate and reproduce off of a single encounter."

"And my body is doing the same thing?" Hermione guessed, her heartrate speeding up at the implications.

"Very similar, dear," Madame Pomphrey agreed. "Your body is clearly at its most fertile, but you'll need to come back in for us chart it and see if it's a regular state and if you'll still have a cycle. Your chemical readings are more extreme than Miss Delacour, but I haven't checked a full-blooded Veela before so it might still be similar in that respect.

"There are differences, of course. Your qualities are completely magically imbued on your body instead of genetic, for one. Miss Delacour had the allure and you do not, but Veelas aren't necessarily known for fidelity like a link witch unless they are the lucky few to mate. The men in the castle should sense something about you, but unlike Miss Delacour they will be in full possession of their faculties. Yes, you're closer to a full-blooded Veela in your body's chemistry and reproductive capacities, but you're still human, Miss Granger."

Hermione's mind was heavily invested in those comments. Her body was constantly in a state of ovulation, if Madame Pomphrey was to be believed. How different was her body?

"Sort of," Hermione muttered under her breath, thinking everything through. "Madame Pomphrey, earlier today something happened. I got, er, aroused, with Se-Master Snape, and I became overwhelmed. My magic went haywire, I nearly lost control of it. It, er – I can't believe I'm talking about this – but it wanted me to, er, _have_ him. It felt like the magic of a bond starting, and I barely stopped before it was sealed. Can people be magically bound through, er, intercourse?"

"All the time," Madame Pomphrey told her, not one bit phased by the confession. "They are generally not permanent but are generally premeditated, and in need of renewal if formed organically as opposed to imposed inorganically. Now, in your case, we do not know what type of bond, do we?"

"No, ma'am," Hermione agreed.

"Has the Headmaster been in touch with the other link witch?" Madame Pomphrey asked. Hermione shook her head. "She might be the only one who knows, dear. I haven't had such a case before, you see, and while we're looking at Veelas for comparison, there's only so far it can go since you are, in fact, human."

Hermione sighed. More questions that had no immediate answers. She had read all the legends about leanan sidhe, xana, every female-esque humanoid legend from nymphs to sirens. Nothing was concrete, and it just made her more and more nervous. "This is insane."

Madame Pomphrey nodded sadly. "It's alright, you know, to feel out of control. Sometimes letting control slip away is what you need."

Hermione looked at her oddly. "Are you encouraging me to have sex with Professor Snape?"

Madame Pomphrey winked at her. "From what I hear, he could use it."

Hermione and Poppy shared a chuckle together, easing the heavy thoughts on Hermione's heart.

"This is a really ridiculous conversation, you know that?" Hermione laughed.

"No more than I normally have, dear," Madame Pomphrey smiled. "Now, before you run away from me, I do need two things."

"Oh?"

Madame Pomphrey placed her hand atop of Hermione's. "I am concerned for you and Severus. You especially. I need a promise that you will come for bi-weekly check-ups."

"That's all?" Hermione laughed. "Of course I'll come back."

"Wonderful." Madame Pomphrey stood and went to the side cabinet by her office to bring a green-ish potion in a vial back for the young girl. "Now, here's the second thing I need. This is-"

"An Atocii Potion," Hermione interjected before she could help herself. She had enough sense to be chagrinned. "Sorry."

"I don't know why I bother with a Potion's Apprentice," Madame Pomphrey chuckled at the girl. "Yes, an Atocii Potion, otherwise known as the monthly contraceptive potion all the girls fifth to seventh year seem to have snuck into Hogwarts in their trunks. I need you to take this before you leave so we can be sure it works for you. Given the unique situation . . ."

Hermione took the vial and downed it quickly, eager to avoid having the 'how babies are made' conversation with this older lady. Madame Pomphrey was over her in a second, waving her wand over Hermione and closing her eyes in concentration. Hermione felt awkward, so she remained as still as possible under the witch's wand.

"Something's not right here," she heard her say when the chanting stopped. She summoned a bucket and shoved it under Hermione's head. "You'll need this."

Before Hermione could ask, she felt a rumbling in her system. Her gag reflex activated, and the potion came right back up from her stomach and emptied into the bucket in her lap. She retched a few more times, clearing her system of the Atocii Potion before she finally felt in control. She straightened up, wandlessly vanishing the contents of the bucket and cleansing her mouth before looking up at the medi-witch.

"Sorry dear," she told her sadly. "It looks like your body's rejecting it. I have a couple of other contraceptive potions, but if this one was rejected . . ."

"The others would be too?" Hermione guessed. At the medi-witch's nod, she sighed. "So, what do I do if my magic loses control around him?"

"You shouldn't trust a charm, not with your magic being what it is," Madame Pomphrey told her thoughtfully. "Not that you shouldn't cast one just in case, but it's not recommended. Nothing save a physical barrier would do, I suppose, but from your description of the situation there wouldn't be time. This is something I'll have to bring up to my colleagues at St. Mungos."

"But then they'll know about me!" Hermione shot up in panic. "You can't tell them! Severus-"

Pomphrey tutted her. "I am very good at keeping secrets, Miss Granger. I will present them with a hypothetical situation with a half-Veela, probably, and allow them to find alternatives. Veela genes are fairly common. Yes, a Veela with an allergy and a mate. There's nothing else for it."

Hermione didn't need to think it through, knowing Poppy Pomphrey, but she did. She tried to find any reason to deny her request for outside help. She didn't _want_ anyone else to know that she wanted to jump her Potions Master, but she may actually _need_ it if today was any indicator. So with a jerky nod, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and prepared to leave.

"Oh, and I expect you will refrain from relations until the matter is resolved?" Madame Pomphrey asked politely, but with an obviously joyful gleam in her eyes. "As fond as I am of Severus, I can't stand for impregnating a charge out of wedlock."

Hermione's face must have been red. "Yes, Madame Pomphrey."

"I believe you can call me Poppy now, don't you?" she laughed at the obvious nerves of the young witch. "Getting to know you will be a joy, my dear. Now, go on and enjoy your night. And feel free to stop by for tea and biscuits any day."

Hermione leapt at her chance to escape and nodded furiously. "Of course, Mada-Poppy. See you soon!"


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

* * *

She stood outside of the Gryffindor common room with her gifts in the leather satchel to her side. Hermione was half-tempted to knock, but the Fat Lady may think she was punching her. After five minutes of standing and waiting, and just before she gave up and went for a walk, a head of black hair poked out of the common room.

"'Mione!" Harry greeted, throwing the portrait open. "Come on in! Everyone wants to talk to you."

Hermione grimaced. "Is Ron still mad at me?"

Harry frowned. "Just come on in. He's not going to throw you out, at least. We had a talk."

Hermione climbed through the portrait hole and followed the slightly melancholy boy through to the Gryffindor common room. Everyone froze and stared at her – except Ron who was resolutely staring at the common room fire – and Hermione's hand gripped tighter on her satchel.

"Hey everyone!" Hermione tried to greet in the most casual voice she had. "How's it going?"

"Don't bother with them," Harry glared around the room. "They believe every word in the Prophet. They'll just ask you about Voldemort."

"Well, we can't trust you, can we?" Seamus shot at the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Whoa," Hermione placed her hand on Harry's shoulder, preventing him from lashing out, "Seamus, what is this? You've been Harry's friend for years."

"So I can't tell him off when he's being a brat?" Seamus accused. "It's all over the papers, 'Mione. And then he goes spouting off to Umbridge today during class and loses us House Points."

"And you've never lost points, Seamus?" Hermione bit back defensively. "There are about thirty potions over the years that prove otherwise, so don't you dare get on his case for that. If you don't believe him, it's one thing, but don't you dare make him feel even worse for telling everyone. Voldemort is back, I know it. Dumbledore does too. Will you call the papers, put my name in there too? Accuse me of shagging Harry, while we're at it? If you don't believe him, just leave him alone."

"Not when he loses us points for it," Dean commented, defending his friend.

Hermione glared at the boy. "Again, he believes Voldemort is back. If you don't, then don't take it out on him. If I hear of anyone bullying Harry for this I _will_ take House Points."

Seamus glared at her. "You can't do that!"

"I am a member of staff," Hermione glared at him. "I can take points and assign detentions for any violation. Bullying another student or making him feel unsafe in his own common room is NOT something any of the staff should condone."

When Seamus' face turned red, Dean interjected. "Then you shouldn't be in our common room!"

"Take that to Professor McGonagall if you want," Hermione allowed. "Until she tells me I'm not allowed with my old house, I will continue coming around and making sure Harry is safe."

"Hermione," Harry murmured pleadingly, "just come sit down."

Hermione let Harry lead her to the couch, planting her next to Ron. She ignored the red-head for now, focusing now on Harry and what she had learned from her interaction with Seamus. She cast a muffliato around the three of them, not letting her guard down.

"Harry, did Umbridge give you detention?" Hermione asked him, the new piece of information taking her attention. "We thought she might try."

"Yeah," Harry grimaced, flexing his hand. "Got back an hour ago."

Hermione gripped his hand, pulling it up. Harry hissed in pain, but Hermione's eyes were fixed on his hand. _'I must not tell lies'_ was embedded into his skin, lightly scarring it.

"Harry, what's this?" Hermione's voice felt dangerous to her. Her anger was filling up her entire body, and her magic was becoming erratic. "Did she do this to you?"

"Hermione, it's alright," Harry tried to pull his hand away from her, but she held it fast. "Really."

"It's not alright!" Hermione screeched. "How did this happen?"

Harry shrank before her. "She had me write lines. The quill she gave me used my blood as ink."

Hermione's rage boiled. "Blood quills are illegal, Harry; Moody told me as much. And to use one on a student . . . We knew she'd be a Ministry mouthpiece, but this is abuse! It's illegal! You have to tell Dumbledore."

"No!" Harry violently ripped his hand from hers with a painful hiss. "Dumbledore has enough on his mind."

Hermione went through her satchel then, pulling out a bottle of murtlap essence and a cloth.

"I can't believe you didn't come find me as soon as you were out, Harry," Hermione griped, pouring the essence over the cloth before shoving the bottle back in her satchel. She wrapped his hand with the essence directly against the back of his hand. "There, murtlap essence should help with the pain, at least."

"Perks of being a Potions Apprentice, huh?" Ron quipped morosely from her side.

"Ron, your friend has been ripped open repeatedly for an hour!" Hermione turned to him. "I _chose_ to become an apprentice, and I _chose_ to show my Master respect by _not_ hexing his godson. Can we focus on Harry now?"

Ron's mouth flapped open and closed a few times before he sighed and nodded. Hermione turned to Harry, her inner fury so potent even Ron wouldn't argue with her right now.

"It's nothing, 'Mione," Harry told her again. "It doesn't hurt so bad anymore."

Hemione put her face in her hands. "How many more detentions?"

The answer was so nervous and soft, Hermione hardly heard it. "Four."

"She gave you a week's detention?" Hermione groaned. "I'm going to fix this, Harry. I'm not letting her do this to you again."

"You can't," Harry insisted. "'Mione, I can't bring more attention to myself. Everyone thinks I'm a spotlight seeker, and as far as they're concerned, anything I say happened in detention with Umbridge would be a lie as well. I won't come forward."

"Harry, you have proof," Hermione told him. "Your hand is enough proof, and even if it wasn't, it's all we need to bring an auror around and search her office for that quill."

"She's with the Ministry!" Harry told her. "They all hate me! No one will come, no one will investigate, and I'll be even more of a liar. We wait this out."

Hermione sighed, but nodded. Harry was going to be stubborn about this, so she couldn't use him to kick Umbridge out. He was right, she'd wait it out until she caught more students with the marks on their hands. Hopefully, if they had multiple witnesses, they would be able to get rid of her.

Hermione went for her satchel and windlessly summoned her gifts for the boys.

"Here," she handed each boy a wand holster. "I want you guys to have your wands always within reach. Strap this on your wand arm and practice getting the wand from there to your hand, every night until you get it right."

"Cool!" Ron took his and strapped it on, his mind sufficiently assured of Hermione's loyalties to him. "Where'd you get these?"

"I made them," Hermione informed both boys, getting her next presents out of her bag. "Here, you guys will need these as well."

She handed each guy a wooden box from her bag.

"Where're you pulling all this from?" Harry asked, looking into her satchel opening.

"Undetectable Extension charm," Hermione told them proudly. "Like those tents at the Quidditch World Cup. Anyways, open them!"

Each boy opened their box to reveal vials of potions, neatly labelled with Hermione's own elegant script.

"There's Essence of Dittany, Healing Draught, Reinvigoration Draught, Polyjuice – without the hair – just one dose, Poison Antidote, and then a Calming Draught," Hermione went through and pointed at each one. "I would have given you some of my batch of Wiggenweld Potion, but it doesn't keep long, and I'm afraid you'll use it for the wrong injuries. Please don't try and drink Dittany, it's to put on cuts to seal them up. These potions will hopefully help keep you boys safe and healthy if I'm not around this year. The box is warded and keyed to each of you, so normal students can't open it and steal the potions. They are rather valuable."

"Oh!" Hermione pulled the Murtlap Essence from her bag and handed it to Harry. "If you really won't go to Dumbledore, use this after detentions with Umbridge. Two teaspoons on the cloth, right where you need it, and then hold it on the cuts. They may still scar, but at least it won't hurt so badly."

"Wow, 'Mione, you're amazing," Ron grabbed her in a hug. "Where'd you get the time for this? I would have thought Snape was working you ragged."

"Well . . ." Hermione grimaced, pulling on the gold chain at her neck, "I may have more time than him."

Harry smiled for the first time since she'd seen him before potions. "Again?"

"They trust me too much," Hermione admitted. "Dumbledore's probably going to ask for it back before the week is out. He only said I'd keep it for the summer."

With her gifts out of the way, Hermione spent the evening playing Exploding Snap with the boys and asking about Gryffindor tower and how it was without her.

"I spoke with Remus yesterday," Hermione whispered to them, even with the ward around them. "He thinks Umbridge is refusing to teach real defense because the students might side with Dumbledore. The Ministry thinks he's going to take over, instead of Voldemort. He thinks we're Dumbledore's child army."

"That's crazy!"

"But it explains Umbridge, doesn't it?" Hermione prodded. "They're not preparing us to fight because they think it's going to be a war between the Ministry and us, when really it's against th-Voldemort. They're hurting their own side without knowing it. It's the enemy's best weapon right now."

Harry sighed and fell back into the couch, his face tense. Ron was more active in his concern, leaning forward and looking at Hermione as if she'd given grave news and she had more. She looked to Harry, keeping focused on him. Something was different about Harry this year, he was more . . . melancholy. Hermione put her hand on his knee.

"So, what do we do?" Harry asked.

"We need to learn to defend ourselves," Ron said. "We need a teacher."

"I could ask Sev-Professor Snape," Hermione suggested, immediately regretting it at the expression on both of their faces. "OK, then why not you, Harry?"

Harry looked at her with wide eyes. "Me?"

This was good. He was looking at her now, instead of through her. Maybe Harry needed to feel like he was doing something to stop Voldemort, and he'd slip out of his funk. In fact the more Hermione thought of her originally blurted-out response, the more she thought it could be just what Harry needed.

"You could teach us," Hermione said straight. "You're the only one here who can conjure a Patronus, and you've faced down the D-V-Voldemort before."

"And barely got away!" Harry protested. "I didn't manage to get away because I was smart, or skilled, Hermione, I was just lucky! You have no idea what it's like to see the person who could end your life in one second standing there, his wand pointed at you. I was terrified!"

"Harry, don't you see? This... this is exactly why we need you... We need to know what it's really like... facing him... facing V-Voldemort," Hermione asserted, trying not to let herself stutter over his name. She wasn't afraid, she simply was so in practice of calling him 'the Dark Lord' in front of Severus that she couldn't change easily. "Look, Ron and I will help. Ron can do strategy and handle the people like the charismatic guy he is, and I'll help with the things Alastor taught me over the summer."

"That's right, you've passed your NEWTS!" Harry latched on to her words, hurling them back at her. "You could teach the class. You're already a teacher!"

"But I'm not a leader, Harry," Hermione interjected. "And I'm not one of the students anymore, either. People need someone to rally around, and that person is you. I can help, but they need you to lead them. They need the Harry I know, the one who is compassionate and patient and kind who can take everyone he meets and turn them into heroes. You did it with me, you did it with Ron . . . you can do it with other people too."

Hermione leaned back. "Besides, if Umbridge does anything I need to be above this. I might not always be able to be there, but I will try Harry."

Harry looked flustered and scared. Knowing him the way Hermione did, he was probably worried about failing them all. She placed a hand on his knee, trying to comfort him.

"I think it's brilliant," Ron said excitedly. "What'll we call it? It's like a secret group, right? So we need a secret name. Ron's Raging 'Ryffindors?"

Hermione laughed at that. "I think they'll be people from other houses that'll want to join, Ron. What about Harry's Harem?"

Both of them laughed.

"Dumbledore's Army."

Hermione looked to Harry, who was started to smile.

"Dumbledore's Army," Harry repeated, his smile growing. "They think we're forming it anyways, right? Let's give them something _real_ to worry about."

Hermione grabbed Harry in a hug, squeezing him tightly. "So you'll do it?"

"I'll do it," Harry agreed. "But you're helping, 'Mione. Now, there's a lot of details to hammer out, I think. How are we recruiting people?"

They agreed they'd tell people they thought were trustworthy and interested to meet at Hog's Head during the first Hogsmeade weekend. That eliminated first and second years, which was fine by them. Hermione was in charm of finding a way to keep it a secret, and Ron and Harry were going to try to find a place in the school they could meet without Umbridge finding out. Harry slipped her a piece of parchment with the password to the common room and promised to give her the new password every week.

She was in her own world when she came back down to the dungeons. She already had a thought on how to keep people from being disloyal to the DA. She entered Snape's office with a cheery smile that earned a look of contempt from the Potions Master.

"And what do you have to be so happy about?" Snape sneered.

"What do have to be so stiff about?" Hermione retorted happily. "I've just spent time with the boys, and we've figured out what to do about Umbridge."

Snape pinched his nose. "Don't tell me. I want plausible deniability."

Hermione rolled her eyes but sat down in the chair next to him. "So, how was your meeting with Professor Dumbledore?"

"He has decided that you need to test Malfoy and try to get him to ask for help," Snape growled, looking down at his course schedule. "He has also determined to do nothing about Professor Umbridge, so whatever you and yours are planning, I will fully support."

"That doesn't explain your sour mood," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh, I don't know, spending time with the Headmaster always leaves me positively brimming with joy," Snape muttered sarcastically.

Hermione smirked at the man and leaned in to kiss his cheek. She loved the way her kiss made his lips quirk at the sides and his eyes light up just a little.

"You want my attention, witch?" Severus purred. "You have it."

"Nope, just wanted to distract you," Hermione laughed. "Come on, let's set up the classroom for tomorrow."

"Isn't that your job?" Snape mocked.

He still rose from his chair and followed her into the classroom to set it up for the next days lessons. They set up the lab for the Seventh Years, who were working on the Elixir to Induce Euphoria. Severus reasoned that if he taught it first thing in the year, fewer students would remember how to brew it and he wouldn't be forced to brew the antidote for the infirmary around exam time. That made Hermione laugh. Eventually, they found themselves reading against each other on the couch in Severus' chambers.

Hermione had noticed that Severus had a tick when he was nervous or afraid. He'd get deathly still. She could hardly feel him breathing when he became that way, and now, with her directly against his chest she could feel him doing it once again. He was tensing more and more every second. Finally, she close her book and focused on him.

"What's wrong?"

He refused to look her in the eye. "I believe I was meant to answer your questions this evening. I'm merely waiting for them to begin."

Hermione but her lip. "You don't have to. I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable…"

"I would not have offered if I did not want to answer," Severus replied, still not looking at her. "I inadvertently elicited your curiousity, and I will not deny you."

Hermione grabbed at his face. "Then look at me."

Severus met Hermione's eyes, and she saw the Occlumency at work behind them. She saw the distant look, the fog he allowed himself, and sighed. She released his face with a brief kiss and sank back to his side. She ignored the confusion she was sure he was feeling in favour of reaching for the craft magic book she had been reading.

"Are you not going to ask anything?" Severus asked, his voice too calm.

Hermione shrugged. "You're not ready to answer them yet, Severus. When you can talk about it without the Occlumency barriers, then I'll ask. Not before."

Severus didn't make a noise for a long time. She tried to ignore the silence coming from him and focus on the words on the page, but she couldn't. His magic was going haywire around her. Then, finally, it settled just enough that she knew he'd come to some sort of decision.

"Are you sure?"

Hermione nodded. "I know enough, and I know you would answer me if I asked. That's as much as I need for now, just . . . Try to work through it, Severus. If . . . if it's still causing you pain, I want you to be free of it. Promise me you'll try."

"I promise."

With a small kiss, and their understood yet strange affection playing through their magic, they returned to a less stressful evening together. And Hermione thought it was perfect.


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: So I basically wrote two chapters and decided to post them at once as one long chapter. Not professional, but I don't particularly mind the way it came out. The big thing to note is that parts of this chapter take directly from Chapter 16 of OOTP: In the Hog's Head, and I do not own anything JK Rowling wrote. I noted where the bulk of it was quoted, but there are multiple times I just directly copied from the text.**

 **Other than that, thank you for the kind reviews! I know there are some early plot perspective shifts that are a little messy, but I'm not using a beta reader so I thank you for being nice about it. The reviews are always welcome.**

 **Also, I'm changing the rating to M. I'm not planning any lemons, but sometime dark themes like the ones that need to be explored in war are sensitive subjects. Now please enjoy!**

Chapter 24

* * *

There was a rhythm over the next few days which Hermione despised. She would go about her apprenticeship, marking and teaching and helping Severus with his brewing. Those were the undisturbed hours, the ones that made her happy. But then, each night, she would deliver the brew of the day to Madame Pomphrey and then go to the Gryffindor common room to make sure Harry was treating his hand. The words were being carved deeper and deeper each day, and she knew that nothing but stopping Umbridge from forcing that quill into his hand would stop it. Still, he refused to come forward or to go to Dumbledore.

Regardless of his unwillingness to take on Umbridge publicly, he seemed genuinely excited in their planning for the DA. They decided to meet the first Hogsmeade weekend, and on Hermione's recommendation – which she had gotten directly from Severus – they decided to meet in the Hog's Head.

Hermione approached Fred and George about getting trustworthy students to show up. She knew that students would often hide their scathing remarks until they were out of public sight, and Hermione wouldn't trust them until she thought they believed Harry. There were no better eavesdroppers than Fred and George, though, and if anyone could find them members it would be them. They were all too happy to oblige.

"Always a pleasure-"

"To be of service to-"

"The beautiful and illustrious-"

"Hermione Granger." They bowed in synchronization and agreed to help.

The shocking part of the week came from Slytherin house. Severus had approved Hermione's office hours for her free periods and then mornings on the weekends, and had given in and posted them for her in the Slytherin common room. She had also posted them in the Gryffindor Common Room, knowing Neville and others would probably come just to avoid Professor Snape. What she didn't expect was her office being filled with Slytherins from the first minute to the last.

It started exactly at one, the officially posted time for her office hours. A single knock on the classroom door. Her desk in the corner was really far from the door, and she didn't feel like moving, so she waved her hand and let the door open. She saw a group of Slytherin fourth, third, second, and first years just outside the door, looking at her.

"Come in," she called kindly.

They approached confidently, en masse, and came to stand in front of her desk. She looked up at them happily.

"What can I help you with?"

Harper spoke first, his voice uncertain. "We heard you had been answering questions about last year."

Ah.

"If you want to know what happened," Hermione allowed. "But, as Mr. Fawley undoubtedly told you, I will not be reciting the Prophet's drivel."

"Miss Granger," a third year addressed her politely, "will you tell us if You-Know-Who is back?"

"He is."

They just nodded, as if fully aware and just looking for someone to say it out loud. "And Umbridge?"

"Is Ministry official positioned at Hogwarts by Fudge in order to undermine Dumbledore, take over the school, and punish anyone who believes Harry," Hermione told them without missing a beat. "As far as I know, she's not working for Voldemort," they flinched, "but I would still advise you that she is fully capable of torturing students with illegal means. Try not to get into detention with her."

The also nodded, as if aware of that too. Only the first and second years looked uncomfortable at her bluntness.

"Do you hate Slytherins?" one kid blurted, only to be glared at by the others.

Her heart sank as she heard that. "Of course not. Not in the least. I just thought you were all obligated to hate me."

They all looked hesitant to agree, but Hermione saw the confirmation in their eyes. They couldn't be seen being kind to the muggleborn Gryffindor

The boy, Harper, spoke first. "Apprentice Granger, if You-Know-Who is back, he's going to come for everyone who's against him, you included. You could run, or fight him. But us . . . without friends or allies on your side of the war, we'll only have one choice if it comes to it. We need you on our side."

Hermione decided to reverse this. "What do you want?"

They hesitated. Mr. Fawley came forward then, earning a respectful look from the fourth years. "You passed you Defense NEWT."

Oh. They wanted a _real_ teacher, just like she wanted Harry to be. And they wanted it from someone who wouldn't train them to become little Death Eaters. It made sense that the Slytherins would be Just one step behind in figuring out that Umbridge would be useless, and that they'd need something else.

"You want a teacher." It wasn't a question, but they nodded. "You do know that Umbridge is going to do everything she can to prevent you from learning anything useful? You might get in trouble."

They seemed concerned at that. "You are an apprentice. Coming to you during office hours to learn isn't going to get us in trouble."

Hermione grinned at them. Such Slytherin logic, the same that Severus used. "But you don't want to go to Professor Snape, correct?"

Harper nodded, unabashed. "We know you're on Potter's side, and that you'll help. We don't know what Professor Snape would say. Or what he would teach."

Again, Slytherin logic. They were going with a known entity, avoiding risks. They were avoiding the Dark magic side completely by coming to her, and they knew it. They wanted a teacher and they wanted an ally to come from it. They wanted her to have their bacs if they needed to get away from Voldemort – and, most likely, some of their parents – and to teach them how to pass their year and survive.

"And if I told you I would be able to help you, but not in the way you had planned and a way that has more risk, but more benefit," Hermione queried, testing them, "would you leave? Would you never approach me again?"

They looked at each other. Unofficially it seemed as if Harper was the leader, which made sense; he was a quidditch player, if only on the reserve team, and one of the oldest in the bunch. I watched patiently as various members of the unruly group nodded at their respected leader. Finally, he turned to me.

"Apprentice Granger, can you promise that you will protect us?" Harper asked. "You'll do what you can to have our backs, right?"

She nodded firmly. "I will, and I will use whatever influence I have with Professor Snape as well. But the thing is, you're asking for my trust and my protection, as well as tuition. You have to give me a sign of your trust in me. If I asked you to receive lessons from someone else, who was setting up a defense class behind Umbridge's back, would you go?"

"We would."

"And if it was a Gryffindor?" Hermione pressed.

"We need to learn defense," he said firmly, "and we need allies. Even if they are Gryffindor."

"And if it's Harry?" Hermione prodded, taking it that final step.

They started, eyes wide. "Really?"

"Answer me."

Harper quieted his dazed expression. "We still would. But you'll help him, right? And he'll be okay teaching us?"

Hermione nodded. "I'll talk to him, and after we sort out the security of our group I'll bring you to the meetings. Look, next weekend is the first Hogsmeade weekend; come back here the Wednesday after that and I'll tell you when and where we've decided to meet. One more thing?"

They waited expectantly.

"I don't do blind trust," Hermione warned them. "Before you join the group, I will be taking measures to ensure every person who comes is trustworthy. If you aren't, don't come back."

They left and Hermione was left to speculate why only the 4th and lower years had come. As it turns out, they weren't the only Slytherins to approach the Golden Girl that week ... but they were the ones who did it nicely.

She had a patrolling schedule just like the other staff, and that night she was patrolling the dungeon hallways when a series of hexes were fired at her from various places along the hall. Her magic flexed at the surge of magic and she erected a quick shield that absorbed the spells. A group surrounded her, shrouded in a spell-made black _obscuros_ that was a hard sixth year defensive spell, meant to mask your identity. Hermione took a defensive stance, unsure if they were students looking to embarrass her or Death Eaters looking to kill. For now, she would hold her place and look for openings to disarm without hurting them.

They began sending hexes at her, not all at once like before but in a series of ever increasing difficulty. She defended herself easily, taking Moody's training and turning it on. She moved around until she had a back against the nearest wall, making it harder for them to hex her. Hermione was quicker than them by a long shot, easily able to defend against them. It told her they were not Death Eaters but students, and she reacted accordingly.

She held her shield in her hand and incanted it with her wand the way Bill showed her, laying a layer into the shield as she'd done with the memory removal charm before. It took a few moments and a few hexes hurled at her before she finished it and released.

A red wave went moved in a wave through the hallway, and the students didn't see it coming. It crashed into them and stunned the group, throwing them haphazardly to the ground. The encounter was over. Hermione could breath as a calm entered the corridor and her adrenaline started to lower. She took the masking spell off the group individually, eager to see who had tried to take her on.

Parkinson. Bulstrode. Greengrass. Seventh Year Lyra Farley. And four sixth year Slytherin girls on top of them.

She ennervated Daphne first, figuring she'd be the easiest to talk to. The girl took a deep breath upon regaining her movement, and then sat there, just looking at Hermione. That wasn't useful. "Well? Before I take you to Professor Snape, I want to hear what the plan was."

"Aren't you going to ennervate the others?" Daphne asked strangely. "We won't try to hex you again, I promise."

"I won't revive them until you tell me why," Hermione insisted, her wand trained on the girl. "Why did you attack me? What did all want me for?"

Daphne bit her lip and looked at Lyra, as if looking for guidance. Hermione waited for the girl to find her words, never letting up the point of her wand. Finally, Daphne looked up at her.

"You agreed to help the younger Slytherins with Defense."

It wasn't a question. But the implication was clear.

Hermione sighed and pointed her wand at the other girls, one by one reviving them. And one by one, they all looked up at her, a strange form of respect in their eyes. Hermione pocketed her wand with another huff od air, slightly annoyed.

"If you girls all came here to test me, you should have just challenged me. I nearly mistook you for _real_ enemies and could have seriously hurt the lot of you."

The girls bowed their head in acknowledgement.

"Now, if you really want to talk about this, we need to be somewhere more private," Hermione said. "Follow me."

She brought them to an abandoned classroom, bringing them all inside before warding and locking the door the way Bill had taught her. She turned to the Slytherin girls and pointed to Lyra with her wand. "So, tell me what you all want. Before I reconsider and hand you over to my Master."

Lyra grimaced. "What do you want us to say, Granger? You said you'd teach the younger kids in defense, and you're the only person in this school who's not under some sort of restriction to obey Umbridge's every word. She can't discipline you, because you're an apprentice, and she can't work with Fudge to get you fired because, again, only Snape can do it and he won't, for whatever reason. Plus you just beat us all in an unfair, outnumbered duel. All the Slytherin girls in my year are worried about passing their NEWTS, and so we're getting help. Namely you."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "The real reason. Now."

Lyra sneered. "I don't know what you mean."

"No?" Hermione sneered right back, pocketing her wand. "Let me tell you what I think, okay? Nobody just ambushes someone in the corridor for help with a study group. No, they do it when something is really on the line. You wanted to know if I could defend myself, and thus if I could defend you if you were on my side. The younger Slytherins came to me today looking for an ally on the light side because they're scared that they may have no other choice but to follow Voldemort." They flinched visibly at the name. "Sure, they want to learn defense, but it's not all about grades; it's because there's a real threat out there and they were scared, like everyone else. So, tell me, is it really because of your NEWTS, Lyra? Because if it is, I would happily recommend a tutor."

Lyra looked at her carefully, a look not dissimilar to consideration in her eyes. Finally, she nodded. "Granger, what do you think the Dark Lord does to his followers' daughters, the ones who aren't Bellatrix Lestrange? What happens to the girls?"

Hermione hesitated. "I hadn't thought about it."

"We're married off for advantage," Lyra snipped, grinding her teeth, "we're ordered to seduce authourity, or we're drained for Dark Magic rituals. Sometimes all three. Pureblood society is a patriarchal society, Granger. Always has been. We are useful for sex or because of our sex. I myself am betrothed to a thirty-year-old Death Eater whose first wife died of mysterious causes after failing to produce an heir. At the end of this year, they're going to marry me off and drown me in fertility potions. I'm not well-connected, or a daughter of the same level Death Eater as the man they're marrying me to, or even my family's heiress, so I'll probably have a few years to conceive before they decide I'm incapable and off me too. And I haven't a single damn thing to protect me."

She nudged the girl next to her, who turned white. "I… I had to sleep with an old man in the Wizegamot. They're blackmailing him for having sex with an underage witch."

One by one, they each told me one horrible thing that had been done to them or that they'd been forced to do. Daphne Greengrass had been a virgin, but had been used in a dark magic ritual that was used to erect wards around several of Voldemort's current hideaways because of her virgin's blood, then "tested out" by a few followers before being betrothed to one of the very same men. Bulstrode was being tutored by her father in dark magic, and had killed someone over the summer. She was going to be turned into another Bellatrix Lestrange, but she hated herself for what they were doing to her. To turn her into a Death Eater was to write her off as completely useless in the female role, effectively rejecting her role in continuing the family line. Parkinson was used similarly to Greengrass but was rescued after only a few Dark rituals by a betrothal contract from one of the Inner Circle.

When they finished, Hermione was tearing up.

"All of this happens to you . . . and you're all coming to me? You trust _me_?"

The girls nodded sadly. "Whatever happened to you over the summer, you became a powerful witch. More than that, you're on the light side, a woman … You're one of Dumbledore's chosen few, and that means if we needed protection … I mean, you said you'd help the younger group, right?"

Hermione just nodded.

"Then you'll help us, right?" Lyra asked, her eyes panicked. "You'll teach us, at least? We have nothing to offer you or your group, but-"

"Circe," Hermione croaked, looking into their pleading eyes. "Do you really think that I would say no?"

They didn't answer, but their eyes said that yes, they did.

"We're putting together a group," Hermione told them hoarsely. "If you want, you can have everyone in it as an ally. We're teaching everyone defense, to the highest level we can, and we're going to have each other's' backs. Harry is going to lead it."

"Potter?" Parkinson hissed. "He's going to teach?"

"Why not you?" Millicent put in, her face hard. "You have the NEWTS."

"Harry can perform a corporeal Patronus in the presence of a hoard of Dementors, and has faced Voldemort directly three times if you don't count the time as a baby," Hermione tried to reassure them. "He has real-life experience. If you're worried, I _will_ be there as much as I can and I'll teach as well. But Harry's the leader."

"I don't trust Potter," Daphne whispered. "He hates us."

"If you don't want to come, I won't make you," Hermione reassured them. "I promise I'll teach you either way. But don't you-I mean, couldn't you use all the allies you can?"

The girls shared a look, before Lyra turned to Hermione with a look of trepidation on their faces. "Granger, we'll come."

Hermione let out a breath she'd been holding. "Thank you. For trusting me, I mean."

"We don't really have a choice," Daphne murmured in whisper.

Hermione couldn't handle the pain in her fellow classmate's eyes. "Now, like I told the other Slytherins, meet me in my office hours sometimes after the first Hogsmeade weekend. I'll have a secret-keeping curse set up for security and a way to communicate with you and the other members of the DA-"

"The what?" Parkinson quipped.

Hermione flushed in embarrassment. "Well, Umbridge is clearly under some sort of delusion that we're all being trained to take over the ministry with Dumbledore. So we called our group Dumbledore's Army, or the DA for short."

Lyra snorted in an unladylike fashion, but her face held no real venom. "Gryffindors. Always poking the sleeping dragon, aren't you?"

Hermione grinned. "What would you expect?"

* * *

It took some convincing, mainly by reassuring Harry that the Slytherins would sign their paper and that they wouldn't be coming to Hog's Head, but Harry eventually agreed that they could use some people in that house on their side. Hermione refrained from reminding him of Severus.

The Slytherin Girls became somewhat friends of hers. They came by every office hour for the next week, asking potions or defense questions and just hanging out as a group. Some of the younger Slytherins joined in, and eventually some other Death Eater children from other houses. It seemed as if they were forming their own little army outside of the DA, one where darkness wasn't the worst but something they had all endured. Hermione had given it the nickname "The Slytherin Sleeper Syndicate", which the girls found a classy but fun name. They'd already been designing tattoos with the triple Ss, to get together after the war ended. It was nice, to see them talking about after.

After making a promise to the girls, Hermione had decided not to tell Severus. They didn't trust Hermione to know whether he was truly a spy for Dumbledore or working for Voldemort, and so to earn their trust Hermione agreed to keep their group a secret.

Umbridge had started posting Educational Decrees outside of the Great Hall, signed by Fudge himself, and was becoming more confident in her power over the school the longer they remained up. Fred and George had been given detention by her, forced to write _'I will not joke around'_ into their own flesh, and Hermione treated them with Murtlap Essence the same as she had Harry. She used her Protean charmed necklace to tell Severus before she got back to the room, only to find him cooking up more of the useful solution. Severus approved of her using her time to finish the essence, creating a high quantity of the concentrated balm, and by the end of that second week there were fifty bottles of it in Severus' storeroom and some more in Hermione's leather satchel.

Dumbledore still hadn't requested her time-turner back, and so she spent each night doing an extra rotation to try and find the solutions to the secrecy the group needed and the way to communicate. The first came easily one evening, after Hermione used her necklace to tell Severus she was going to be late back to the common room because she was treating the twins for their scarred hands

The other one came from Severus.

"If you want a punishment for anyone who releases your secret, perhaps this one?" he passed her a text, opened to a specific page. He earned a kiss for the find, and Hermione immediately enchanted the piece of parchment she was going to use.

The moment they signed their names, they would be under a silence agreement, the same used for formal contracts for the darker businesses. They would be physically silenced, all but permanently, by the curse if they told anyone about the group, provided Hermione put the specific clauses in invisible ink on the back of the parchment.

"Do you think I should?" Hermione hesitated. "I mean, it is a darker curse. The only way they could speak again is if I specifically did the counter-curse."

"We will cast it together," Severus reassured her. "That way if you cannot restore their voices yourself, or you are irrationally and angrily keeping yourself from doing so, I will intervene."

The day of the first Hogsmeade visit, breakfast was interrupted by the Prophet, which Severus had delivered for her every day. It was deposited on her lap by a disgruntled little grey owl. She opened it up to see the pink monstrosity smiling her devil's grin our from the page, with the headline reading **Minister of Magic Approves Hogwarts High Inquisitor**. Hermione looked down at the pink she-devil, who was beaming at the room as more and more students turned to look at her when they'd read their own newspapers. When the murmuring raised sufficiently, she got up from her seat and loudly hemhemed. They all silenced.

"Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge wanted me to speak with you today" Umbridge said clearly, earning a look from me. "After being here at the school for little under two weeks and sending my reports to the Minister of the conditions here, it is clear to us both that Hogwarts requires immediate oversight and, where it is weakest, correction. The Minister has appointed me as High Inquisitor for just this purpose. I want to reassure you all that all changes are done with the approval of the Ministry, and are for your benefit and overall education. If any of you observe questionable practices within the school, I advise you to come find me – my office door is always open."

She gave her toad-like smile at the population of the school, looking every bit as smug as a cat getting the canary. "Now that this little bit of official business is taken care of, please do continue with your breakfast."

Umbridge returned to her seat at the high table and Hermione took her chance to confront the woman.

"Does the invitation extend to me, High Inquisitor?" Hermione dared to ask out loud, giving the vile woman a smirk. Every eye turned to her. "I have various complaints about a specific professor, from her incompetence to the use of blood quills against students. How do you think the ministry would take such complaints?"

Dolores Umbridge looked at her with venom, and she returned it openly. Snape gripped Hermione's arm tightly and rounded on her.

"Apprentice Granger," he hissed, "you are out of line."

The order was clear, and his displeasure twice as obvious through the magic around them both.

"You're always welcome for a chat in my office, Apprentice Granger," Umbridge simpered with false sweetness. "Please feel welcome to come for tea sometime. I'm sure I can deal with your concerns."

Severus' grip on her arm tightened as he rose from his position at the table and physically dragged her from the Great Hall, everyone observing them as they left. Umbridge for one, looked victorious.

He rounded on her the moment they left the room, his eyes thunderous. "Do you have no sense of self-preservation? Or did your brain decide to be the worst of your house when you woke up this morning? You antagonized a woman who now has the power to terminate my employ, and you consider _now_ the moment to do so? In front of the entire school? I wouldn't be surprised if she poisoned your tea one day for cheek."

Hermione's eyes went wide as she took in his expression. "She could fire you?"

"Easily," Snape spat. "The only reason she wouldn't, after your display, is if you go in there, right this moment, and apologize to her in front of the entire school for your remarks and extend your congratulations for her promotion. You can tell her that you were wrong to trust a student's word, or that you are merely jealous of her position, anything, so long as you make it believable."

Hermione stuck out her chin. "I won't do it."

"I will make it an order, Miss Granger!" Snape snapped. His use of Miss Granger hit her straight in the stomach. "Do not force my hand."

Hermione looked at him and he at her, both tense as coils waiting to be sprung. Hermione's magic was tormenting her, forcing her to agree to anything if it made her mate happy. For the first time, the magical bond felt like a force beyond her attraction to him, and it felt like it was pushing her into being the opposite of what she was. It was telling her to simply obey the man in front of her, instead of standing her ground. Fighting it brought tears to her eyes though, and she finally gave in under his black gaze.

"Fine," she turned from him, hiding the tears. "You win."

Turning to the entrance, she made her way into the Great Hall. All eyes watched as she stalked over to Professor Umbridge, her face venomously sweet. Hermione came next to the pink pariah, and grimaced.

"Professor Umbridge, may I have a word?" she said as courteously as she could, but even to Hermione's ears it sounded forced. Her magic was unimpressed, pressing upon her.

Umbridge just smiled up at her. "Of course, little Apprentice. What can I do for you?"

She wasn't going to allow her any privacy, then, in what she had to say.

"My Master has brought to my attention how … rude my comments were," Hermione murmured, avoiding the bright eyes that were filled with relish. "I wanted to extend to you my apologies."

"I'm sorry, dear, I didn't hear you," Umbridge tittered with a sadistic gleam in her eye. "What did you say?"

Hermione flinched, and drew a deep breath. A little louder, she said, "Professor Umbridge, please accept my apologies. I shouldn't be taking the word of students over a member of the faculty. I was rude and out of line."

"Oh, Apprentice Granger, it is clear you really are inexperienced with deception," the pink confection comforted with overly sweet tones. Her face was vicious, a coiled serpent waiting to bite. "Poor girl, it's not your fault really, with your weak mind and your devious friends. Some people want attention so much, they will lie between their teeth about anything to get it. I'm sorry if you were misled – of course I accept your apology. After all, you are nothing but a young, silly, teenage girl."

Hermione gritted her teeth against the anger bubbling inside of her. "Please accept my congratulations on your promotion as well, Madame."

"Oh, is it a reason for congratulations?" Umbridge beamed maliciously.

Hermione nodded blandly. "Of course, to have the trust of a man such as the Minister of Magic is … significant. You are clearly a singular individual."

Singular, meaning Hermione prayed to every known deity that there was only one of her in existence.

"Oh, who am I to deny such kind words?" Umbridge feigned modesty. "I must admit, Cornelius would never select just anyone for this task. Perhaps it is something you can aspire to, my dear, despite your unfortunate upbringing. You have potential and such a great Master to look up to as an example. In the future, perhaps get Professor Snape's views before letting your mind be swayed by your peers, hmm?"

"I will do my best," Hermione replied weakly. "I'll leave you to you breakfast, Madame High Inquisitor."

"Yes, I'm sure your Master is waiting for you." Umbridge waved her away. "I'm sure you have frog's eyes to prepare, or something."

Hermione didn't wait another second after her dismissal to turn and flee the hall, passing Snape in the hallway and running up to the owlery. She heard him follow but even though her magic screamed at her to turn around and go to him, she fought it. No matter her attraction to the man, her magic was taking away her free will and he had used it against her. He had forced her own humiliation and that of Harry's, and she had allowed it because her magic had forced her, regardless of whether or not he'd given her an order. She had never felt more like the magic she had discovered was a curse than at that moment.

When she arrived in the owlery, she grabbed some parchment from her bag and penned a letter to Mrs. Weasley. She told her about Fred and George's treatment by Umbridge, asking her for her advice on what she could do, and sent it off. Hermione Granger was done being silent. On another parchment, she wrote a note to Rita Skeeter, outlining the treatment of students and providing a direct quote from her that she insisted should be made anonymous in her article, and advising her to use it or have her secret exposed. Hermione grabbed a quick little owl and attached the note, earned a hiss from her love.

"Don't you dare."

She let the owl go and watched as it flew away, ignoring Severus. He grabbed at her but the owl was already gone, but that didn't stop him from pressing her into the stone pillar in the center of the room, his hand tight on her arms. The look in his eye was murderous.

"You are the most stubborn which I've ever had the misfortune to meet," Severus growled at her, pushing her against the owlery wall. "Are you serious? Rita Skeeter? You want your disdain for Umbridge to be a front-page story?"

"Skeeter will keep her source anonymous, and she'll publish it without a complaint, and I don't need you permission" Hermione tried to free her arms, but Severus held her fast. His fingers dug fiercely into her arms. "Now let go of me."

"You're my apprentice!" he hissed. "You would need my permission to sleep at night if I demanded it. You are jeopardizing everything for your own goody-goody need to fix everything! You can't fix everything, and it will only paint a target on your back if you try."

"I'll be more careful," Hermione promised in a low voice, her anger flaring, "but I will not be forced to behave for that pink profiterole when she's torturing my friends every night. I will not let her win this."

"You're acting like a spoiled little Gryffindor," Snape accused. "There is no act first, think later option, Hermione. You MUST accept that Umbridge will be here until Voldemort shows himself to the public. So suck it up, and pretend to have some modicum of respect for her power, if nothing else."

"She doesn't deserve your protection, and she has no hold over me," Hermione insisted, her chin raised defiantly. "So long as she likes you, and I keep from jeopardizing your position with her, I will be fine."

"And if she asks me to end our contract?" Snape pressed her, his eyes dark and troubled. "If the Dark Lord agrees?"

Hermione shook her body, trying to rid herself of his arms, but he held her fast and hard. She could feel her arms going numb from the loss of her blood flow.

"Let go of me!"

Snape gripped her even tighter, his face vicious. Hermione cried out in pain, and tried to push her magic and force Severus away from her. It wouldn't budge. Hermione felt crippling fear, knowing that whatever he decided to do to her he could do.

"You will NOT challenge her again," he warned her lowly. The order was binding her with magic, forcing her to submission. Tears of pain and frustration pricked at her eyes. "Continue with your ridiculous defense class with your friends, but Umbridge is off limits. Do not test me on this, witch."

The humiliation of her magic being used against her coupled with the pain of his fingers digging into the muscles on her arms seemed to trigger a desperation in her. She needed to escape.

"Let go!" Hermione shrieked. She didn't want to cry, not in front of Severus. Not when she was doubting the bond. "You're hurting me!"

Those were the magic words. Severus stumbled back, his hands releasing her and his eyes growing wide, as if he hadn't even known what he was doing. Severus hadn't. But the pain and fear in Hermione's eyes were real, and his mind associated them with another pair. Her brown eyes were instead black, black as his own, the ones he'd seen so often crying in pain as his father beat her. The realization hit him right in his stomach, as real as a punch.

He'd nearly hurt Hermione.

"I'm going to Hogsmeade with the boys," Hermione said shakily. "I need to think."

She turned and fled, heading straight for the Gryffindor Common Room, and he didn't follow.

* * *

Hermione practically dragged Harry and Ron to Hogsmeade, not giving them a moment longer to eat or linger about the common room. Harry tried to ask what Hermione had said to Umbridge, clearly having seen the upset on her face as she spoke to the woman, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it. Instead, she diverted them with talk of their defense club. She showed them the test coin she had created to hide the protean charm, which they took to with enthusiasm. She even suggested casting it in metal so she could loop it onto a crafted bracelet to keep it from getting lost. She couldn't do it for everyone, but they could suggest that each person have theirs on a chain around their neck or whatever else they needed to keep them safe. It would be safer.

Still, they brought up Umbridge and Snape's pulling her from the room, clearly intent on talking about it before the meeting began. She sat them on a side of the room, and offered to get them butterbeer to distract them.

The grizzled old man behind the counter observed her approach, not saying a word. He looked familiar, though, which had Hermione on edge.

"Three butterbeers, please," Hermione ordered, trying to avoid eye contact with the man. He nodded gruffly, pulling three dusty bottles from under his counter. She deposited the coins for the drinks and turned away.

"He's recruiting younger and younger now, I see," the old man said in an unexpectedly distinguished accent. "You take care, Miss Granger; Albus is not omniscient, as much as he pretends."

She looked back at him, her eyes now seeing the resemblance. "You're related to Dumbledore, aren't you?"

He nodded curtly. "Aberforth Dumbledore, owner of this ruddy place. Not that it matters. Just take care."

Hermione bit her lip, hesitant. Was he the reason Severus had recommended this haunt? The thought of Severus made her magic flair, as if it were angry at her. She ignored it and focused on Aberforth. "We're going to be having a confidential meeting here. You'll keep it secret, won't you?"

"I've already cleared out my all-day drunks, little miss, and my other regulars don't come in until later," the man informed her. "I've already been looking to keep it secret. So go back to your friends before _you_ give yourself away."

Hermione nodded and left, bringing the butterbeers to her friends. They sipped the room-temperature drink while looking out the window, waiting for the others to make it to Hogsmeade. Slowly, a group seemed to form outside, like no one wanted to enter alone. McMillan, Michael Corner, some Ravenclaws, all waiting outside. When the Weasley twins arrived with Ginny, they got a lovely sight of the three of them corralling the population into the musty bar. The group greeted their ginger compatriots happily.

"Good you too!" Ginny exclaimed, crossing over to the trio. "What'd you do Hermione? These kids were all just standing outside, like you'd hexed someone already."

"Not yet, but the day is young," Hermione said innocently. To be fair, she was going to be using a curse on just about everyone in the meeting. Ginny was astute. "How many more do you think will show?"

"I know there are some Hufflepuffs we were expecting," Ginny told her, a nervous glance at Harry. "It kind of hit them hard, last year."

Hermione nodded, her gaze also flickering over to Harry. Ginny's words had brought steel to the normally kind boy's face. They'd seen that look often after the final challenge, whenever someone would mention Diggory to him. His death had struck Harry hard, and Hermione thought he would never be able to talk about him. To his credit, Harry said nothing and allowed the comment.

The group waited, all drinking butterbeers or making small talk. Hermione brought up Umbridge, just so they could all bridge the communication barrier and promptly found that their anger at the new High Inquisitor was a commonality between them. Most Gryffindors hated not using their wands in class or the way she'd undermined everything. The Ravenclaws knew that theory would only go so far, and saw Harry's patronus and Hermione's NEWTS as a reason to learn from them. When the Hufflepuffs arrived, they learned that the group were mostly ashamed at her treatment of a seventh-year Hufflepuff, who had been punished with lines with the blood quill for believing Harry, and suggesting that the pink monstrosity keep an open mind.

Finally, when Fred and George led the final little fourth year through the door, they began.

 **-taken from chapter 16 OOTP 'In the Hog's Head'-**

"Er," said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. "Well-er-hi."

The group focused its attention on her instead, though eyes continued to dart back regularly to Harry.

"Well ... erm ... well, you know why you're here. Erm ... well, Harry here had the idea-I mean" (Harry had thrown her a sharp look) "I had the idea-that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts-and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with you—"(Hermione's voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident) "- because nobody could call that Defence Against the Dark Arts—" ('Hear, hear,' said Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione looked heartened) "-Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands."

She paused, looked sideways at Harry and went on, "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory but doing the real spells—"

"Wouldn't hurt to pass our exams, right?" said Michael Corner, who was watching her closely.

"That should be all of your goals," said Hermione at once. "But more than that, we want you to be properly trained in defence because ... because ..." she took a great breath and finished, "because Lord Voldemort is back."

The reaction was immediate and predictable. Cho's friend shrieked and slopped Butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch; Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry.

"Well ... that's the plan, anyway," said Hermione. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to—"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said the blond Hufflepuff player in a rather aggressive voice.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it-" Hermione began.

"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," said the blond boy, nodding at Harry.

"Who are you?" said Ron, rather rudely.

"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."

"Look," said Hermione, intervening swiftly, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—"

"It's OK, Hermione," said Harry.

It had just dawned on him why there were so many people there. He thought Hermione should have seen this coming. Some of these people-maybe even most of them-had turned up in the hopes of hearing Harry's story firsthand.

"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he repeated, looking Zacharias straight in the face. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke. Harry had the impression that even the barman was listening. He was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag, making it steadily dirtier.

Zacharias said dismissively, "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know—"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry said. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again. He did not take his eyes from Zacharias Smith's aggressive face, and was determined not to look at Cho. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

He cast an angry look in Hermione's direction. This was all her fault; she had decided to display him like some sort of freak and of course they had all turned up to see just now wild his story was. But none of them left their seats, not even Zacharias Smith, though he continued to gaze intently at Harry. That told Hermione that beyond their curiousity and rudeness, there was a glimmer of trust for them within the group. Hermione saw it as hope.

"So," said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. "So ... like I was saying ... if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and where we're going to—"

"Is it true," interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

"Yeah," said Harry slightly defensively.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

The phrase stirred something in Harry's memory.

"Er-you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" he asked.

The girl smiled.

"She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So-is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Blimey, Harry!" said Lee, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry, and a couple of people laughed.

The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.

"And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" demanded Terry Boot. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year ..."

"Er-yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.

Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled; the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks and Lavender Brown said 'Wow!' softly. Harry was feeling slightly hot around the collar now; he was determinedly looking anywhere but at Cho.

"And in our first year," said Neville to the group at large, "he saved that Philological Stone—"

"Philosopher's," hissed Hermione.

"Yes, that-from You-Know-Who," finished Neville.

Hannah Abbotts eyes were as round as Galleons.

"And that's not to mention," said Cho (Harry's eyes snapped across to her; she was looking at him, smiling; his stomach did another somersault) "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year-getting past dragons and merpeople and Acromantula and things ..."

There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Harry's insides were squirming. He was trying to arrange his face so that he did not look too pleased with himself. The fact that Cho had just praised him made it much, much harder for him to say the thing he had sworn to himself he would tell them.

"Look," he said, and everyone fell silent at once, "I ... I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but ... I had a lot of help with all that stuff ..."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying ..."

"Yeah, well—" said Harry, feeling it would be churlish to disagree.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," said Susan Bones.

"No," said Harry, "no, OK, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is—"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Zacharias Smith.

"Here's an idea," said Ron loudly, before Harry could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

Perhaps the word 'weasel' had affected Ron particularly strongly. In any case, he was now looking at Zacharias as though he would like nothing better than to thump him. Zacharias flushed.

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," he said.

"That's not what he said," snarled Fred.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" enquired George, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

 **-back to my own writing with quotes from the text–**

"Enough you two," Hermione laughed at the twins. Her laughter seemed to break some of the tension that was rising in the room, and she took the chance to address the room. "Look, Harry's not saying he's incapable. He is consistently on top of his Defense classes, and he has plenty of experience. Yes, he had help with getting through it, but that's just it. What he's saying is that we're stronger together."

That seemed to shut everyone up.

"Look," Hermione huffed, trying to stay in control of her nerves, "I'm here with Harry because I believe Voldemort is back, and we want to be able to help as many people as possible. This isn't just a defense study group – we wanted a group where we could teach everyone to fight so we could have each other's backs."

"Wait, you're recruiting soldiers!" Zacharias Smith accused with disgust.

"No," Harry interjected, his face hard. "No one is going to be forced to fight if they join us. But the more people who know how to defend themselves, the fewer targets there are for Voldemort. I—I would never, ever, ask anyone to fight for me. But this is about more than studies, Hermione's right. It's about doing something real. It's taking steps to secure ourselves against what's coming."

Ron looked at them both like they were both melodramatic crazies.

"So," Ron called out to the room filled with students, "who wants to go ahead with the lessons from Harry?"

There was a murmur of general agreement, including a curt nod from Smith. Ron looked pleased.

"Right," said Hermione, relieved. "Well then, we need to figure out how often to meet. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week—"

"Hang on," said Angelina, "we need to make sure this doesn't interfere with our Quidditch practice."

"No," added Cho, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," finished Zacharias Smith.

Hermione sighed. "Look, Quidditch practice is only once a week, and there are only four teams. That leaves three others to have the lessons on, alright? We'll be accommodating as we can, but this is rather important, as in defending ourselves from Death Eaters and Voldemort important."

"Here, here!" barked Ernie MacMillan, the first the boy had spoken so far. "Personally, I think it's really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our OWLS comin up!"

He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry 'Surely not!' When nobody spoke, he went on, "I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells—"

"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione, "is that she's got some ... some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilise us against the Ministry."

Nearly everybody looked stunned at this news; everybody except Luna Lovegood, who piped up, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" said Harry, completely thrown by this unexpected piece of information.

"Yes, he's got an army of Heliopaths," said Luna solemnly.

Normally, such a strange comment with no discernable proof behind it would have Hermione snapping at the blonde witch. However, after two weeks of Potions class with the witch whose unorthodox methods had not once produced a less than stellar potion, Hermione was beginning to see Luna Lovegood as an eccentric type of genius.

So, Hermione had a soft spot for her. "Army of his own or not, he had no right to interfere with our education because he thinks he's such bollocks as Minister that he can't trust his own shadow."

"Hem, hem," said Ginny, in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and have defence lessons?"

"Once a week sounds great," Harry put in. "And we'll work around Quidditch, try to make it as heavily attended as possible."

"OK, now … there is one more thing," Hermione said nervously. "We need somewhere to meet."

This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.

"Library?" suggested Katie Bell after a few moments.

"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" said Dean.

"Yeah," said Ron, "McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practising for the Tri wizard."

But Hermione was pretty certain that McGonagall would not be so accommodating this time. For all that she had said about study and homework groups being allowed, she had the distinct feeling that this one might be considered a lot more rebellious.

"It shouldn't be too public, and we can't use any of the common rooms," Hermione announced with a huff. "As a teacher, I have a common area of my own we can use, but it's not nearly big enough for everyone to be fighting at once."

"So we'll find someplace else, but for now we'll just be learning a little slower," Harry acknowledged. "Can we use your rooms, 'Mione?"

"For now," Hermione allowed. "I shouldn't have students there by themselves, though, so you should all come in pairs."

She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, then hesitated. The cursed parchment was borderline legality, and dubious when the clauses were in invisible ink. But Harry was too important to be brought to Umbridge over this, so she steeled herself and put the items down on the table.

"I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think," she took a deep breath, "that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anybody else what we're up to. Harry, the Weasleys, and I will handle recruitment or spreading the word, but you don't talk about this group to anyone outside the group."

Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully wrote his signature, but Hermione noticed at once that several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list. Smart kids.

"Er ..." said Zacharias slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass to him, "well ... I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."

But Ernie was looking rather hesitant about signing, too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"I-well, we are prefects," Ernie burst out. "And if this list was found ... well, I mean to say ... you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out—"

"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," Harry reminded him.

"I-yes," said Ernie, "yes, I do believe that, it's just—"

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?" said Hermione testily. "Me, Hermione Granger, youngest graduate in over a century, being careless? Especially around Professor Snape?"

"No. No, of course not," said Ernie, looking slightly less anxious. "I-yes, of course I'll sign."

Nobody raised objections after Ernie, though Harry saw Cho's friend give her a rather reproachful look before adding her own name. When the last person-Zacharias- had signed, Hermione took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though they had just signed some kind of contract. Which they had, Hermione thought gleefully.

"Well, time's ticking on," said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. "George, Lee and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later."

In twos and threes the rest of the group took their leave, too.

Cho made rather a business of fastening the catch on her bag before leaving, her long dark curtain of hair swinging forwards to hide her face, but her friend stood beside her, arms folded, clicking her tongue, so that Cho had little choice but to leave with her. As her friend ushered her through the door, Cho looked back and waved at Harry

"Well, I think that went quite well," said Hermione happily, as she, Harry and Ron walked out of the Hog's Head into the bright sunlight a few moments later. Harry and Ron were clutching their bottles of Butterbeer.

"Wait until they see your Slytherins show up," Harry grimaced. "Shouldn't we have told them?"

"And risk them not signing the paper?" Hermione pointed out. "No, this is better. I'll get the Slytherins to sign before the first meeting, and then they'll just have to deal with it."

Ron shrugged. "I'm sure they'll just be glad for targets."

"Ron!"

He raised his hands defensively. "Just saying. Competition is good, and all that. We'll get better with the snakes around."

Justified or not, Hermione smacked him upside the head.

"Ow!"

"We agreed to be nice," Hermione reminded him. "Besides, if you make the girls uncomfortable, it'll be worse than a smack for you. One of them is a seventh year, you know."

"I can't believe they all showed up," Harry told them, ignoring her as well as Ron who was now rubbing his head exaggeratingly. "I thought they'd all leave after I refused to talk about Cedric."

"It shows you that not everyone is disloyal or blind, Harry," Hermione reassured him. "They know somethings going on, and even if they don't Umbridge is driving them to that conclusion."

"You really think I can teach them?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely," Hermione agreed. "You're a brilliant wizard, Harry. As great of a teacher as Moody was this summer, I still can't produce a corporeal Patronus. Only wisps."

It still frustrated her. Every memory she picked was somehow obsolete, nowhere near powerful enough to produce the Patronus she wanted. The closest she had gotten had been her memory of her parents at the end of the summer, before she'd erased their memories. But it was always tainted by the knowledge that she had sent them away.

"It's hard to find the right memory," Harry told her, "and then, even more, to have the urgency to project it."

"I know," Hermione growled.

"What did you use?" Harry asked, curious.

"My parents."

Harry bit his lip. "Maybe it's not about the happiest memory then."

Ron wanted in on the conversation. "But that's what you were taught, right?"

"Not quite," Harry explained. "See, Lupin told me it was about everything the Dementors feed on. Hope, happiness, and the desire to survive. You have to want to be happy, or to at least live another day. Maybe it's more about that, about hope? Or, I don't know, the desire to be happy?"

Hermione bit her lip, considering it. Her memories of her parents did exactly the opposite to what Harry was saying, not making her hopeful for their return, or having a desire to survive herself. It was about her parents surviving, that was what she wanted when she visited those memories.

What memory would work? What made her want to see another day?

Her magic reacted to her train of thought to pull up memories of Severus, inducing her to remember the time hands met on the stirring rod in the cauldron, the times he'd genuinely laughed, the way he'd cared for her.

She fought the magic, trying to shut it down. She would _not_ feel for Severus because of the spell. She would not have her will taken away.

"So, what happened with Umbridge this morning?" Ron asked.

"I insulted her and my Master made me apologize," Hermione told them coldly. "I just hate that woman so much, especially with what she did to Harry and the twins. I couldn't hold it in."

"Hermione, don't get in trouble for me," Harry pleaded. "She just got more power. Please don't anger her."

"I can't anymore, if I wanted to," Hermione grimaced. " _He_ forbade me."

Ron seemed to flinch for her. "He's in for an angry 'Mione, then. No one tells our girl what to do."

"He hasn't learnt that yet," Hermione grieved loudly. "The worst thing is he's taking away my free will, and I can't hate him for it. I know he's just trying to protect us both from Umbridge's _correction_ , but that doesn't mean he can just order me around."

"For once, I'm with Snape on this," Harry told Hermione. Ron gaped. "We don't know what Umbridge is planning, so anything we do just opens ourselves up to be targets and doesn't do any good. That's why we're running this thing in private, right?"

"Oh, I'm done talking about this," Hermione huffed. She pulled the boys along to Honeydukes, intent on getting as much chocolate as she felt comfortable with. Normally she never indulged in the sweets here, but her frustration was making her crave something sweet, like it did every month but for different reasons. Harry and Ron noticed the change, and voluntarily let it drop.

"Hey, mate?" Ron asked Harry. "Did you see the way Corner was looking at Ginny?"

* * *

Hermione was hesitant to leave her friends, but she knew the sooner they had a discreet means of communication, the better it would be for the DA. So she said goodbye to her boys and made her way down to her personal room. She'd work on the fake galleons with protean charms coupled with her Honeydukes tonight, ignoring the guilt of Severus probably expecting her for brewing today.

Ignoring Severus was a daft plan, but she had none better. So she wasn't surprised when he came into her room later, finding her curled up with an entire pan of dark chocolate fudge, a side of Selflossing Stringmints, some house-elf prepared hot cocoa, and about 40 faked galleons that she was painstakingly linking to the others.

Their magic was interacting violently. Hermione was fighting the instinctual reactions she was having, the desire to go over to him and comfort him, or to accept what he did. She could feel his frustration through the magic, and it killed her not to go to him.

"I see Honeydukes did well today," Severus noted.

"Hmm," Hermione hummed in acknowledgement. "I felt the need to drown in chocolate."

Hesitation and silence.

"You did not return to me after your trip," Severus pointed out, his voice strained. "As your Master-"

"You have the right to take away all semblance of free will and dictate my life," Hermione snapped, putting down her wand in case her magic became troubled with her emotions. "You made that perfectly clear."

"I am responsible for your well-being and success," Snape finished with a growl. "Upsetting Umbridge is in direct conflict with those aims."

"And I suppose talking to me was just too hard for you?" Hermione asked. "Your orders take away my choice!"

Snape sighed. "Do you not trust me to take care of you?"

"It's not about that!" Hermione protested.

Hermione's magic was screaming at her now, telling her she'd lose Severus if she continued. It crashed through her muscles and nervous system, inciting them to react. Her magic wanted her body to reach out to Severus, to reassure him of her affections. But she didn't believe it was her affection leading it. She would not relent.

Severus turned away from her, hiding his face. "I hurt you, I realize. You must know, I never intended to harm you."

"I wasn't injured, Severus," Hermione said. "It was only that you held me there, not letting me have even the choice to leave or move…"

"Perhaps …" Severus took a deep breath. "Have you come to regret our association?"

Hermione had no answer. Her magic was flooding through her and surrounding Severus, holding him tightly as if she would release him. Nothing he did, no amount of willpower of fight would bring it back.

"I see." Severus moved to the doorway. "As we are both adults, I believe we are fully capable of maintaining professionalism in our daily interactions."

"Severus … no … wait!" Hermione stood, going after him at last. Nothing was making sense, her magic and her feelings in agreement not to let him go, but her head resenting the absence of her free will in the equation. Severus paused, still not looking at her. Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to pull away. He didn't. "I … I'm so confused. Please, I'm not rejecting you."

"You would be within your rights if you did," Severus informed her. "I would not hold it against you."

"I need to talk to the other leanan sidhe," Hermione implored him. "My magic and feelings seemed linked, or symbiotic. It's … my feelings can't be trusted! I … Severus, I need to be free to do what I think is the best. I don't _feel_ free. I got mad at you … I did … but … I couldn't be mad without my magic interfering! I wasn't able to feel the way I wanted! Please, you have to see how upsetting that would be."

Severus turned to look at her. She could see the confusion and upset in his own eyes, and feel with her magic the indecision and fear seeping from him.

"You believe you are being compelled by your latent abilities?" Severus inquired. "That is the reason for your upset?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed, relieved he understood.

He was focused on her, calculating. "Perhaps, then, we must keep a certain distance until you further understand your nature."

Her magic refused his words, coiled and rushing around Severus. Hermione, on the other hand, was shocked at the decision. Her mind agreed, although she herself was undone by those words.

"What?"

Severus took her hand gently from his shoulder, cupping it in his. He gazed at her, his eyes soft, but his face formed into a grimacing scowl. "I should have taken this into account before now. You came to me when you had finished your transformation, with hardly a moment to gain your bearings. I should not have accepted your affections so quickly."

"No-"

"You need some time and counsel," Severus said, nonplussed by her attempted interruption. "I will speak with Albus and insist upon his haste in garnering this other witch's aid. After you speak with her, after you understand your own nature better, you can decide what you wish. I will not hold the choice you make against you, personally."

He dropped her hand then, stepping back from her proximity. "Until then, we will simply be apprentice and master. No more running off, no more missing brewing sessions, and no unnecessary intimacy. As we were before your transformation."

Hermione nodded, conflicted. But she knew Severus was right. She had jumped in too quickly, and he had complied just as fast, because they were both high off of her magic. They had been teenagers, essentially, floating on the first feelings that were returned. It couldn't go on like this.

But she felt the hopelessness rolling through Severus' magic, and she knew he thought this was the end of a two-week affair. The level of self-loathing running through him on a regular day was evidence enough of his belief it wouldn't last, but she'd be damned if she let him believe that.

"Then it is agreed," Severus said. "We will resume our schedule on Monday, so take tomorrow to be with your friends."

"This isn't goodbye," Hermione said firmly.

Severus gave her a poor, devastated smile. Hermione's heart broke a little. "As you say."

As much as Hermione longed to hug the man who captured her magic with his own, she kept back an folded her hands behind her back. She didn't know what to say without her magic rushing to force a declaration she wasn't prepared for from coming out of her lips. So, instead, she stood in silence, looking at her bare feet.

"Until Monday, Apprentice," Severus bowed.

"Of course, Master," she murmured. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

With those hollow words, he left her chambers and her. She was alone again, with her chocolate and her chaotic magic.

It would be a hard week coming.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

* * *

Dumbledore requested to see her the morning after. After her lessons with Dumbledore over the summer for crafting, the encounter wasn't as daunting as it once would have been. However, the fact that it came the morning after her separation from Severus had her worried. So she donned her gifted teaching robes to present an image of professionalism before making the trip to the Headmaster's office.

"Gum drops."

She climbed the stairs to his office and stopped to briefly straighten her appearance before knocking.

"Come in!"

She opened the door to see the man in question sitting at his desk in a deep purple robe that looked much better than the yellow set she'd seen him in the previous day. He twinkled at her from his seat.

"Apprentice Granger, please sit," Dumbledore invited. "Tea?"

"No, thank you," Hermione declined politely, sitting in the opposite chair. "I have the time-turner here."

She touched it lightly against her chest.

"Time-turner?" Dumbledore inquired with a mischievous sparkle. "I'm sorry my dear, I don't understand."

"You told me I'd need to return it at the beginning of term," Hermione asserted, reaching around to release the chain.

Dumbledore raised his hand to stop her, his twinkle more prominent. "Ah, yes, so unfortunate what happened to your time-turner. But students will be students, and potions accidents happen every day. We're most fortunate you were not injured, dear."

Comprehension dawned. "Does the ministry want the remains, sir?"

"They've allowed me to keep them," Dumbledore told her, dropping a mangled piece of gold on top of his desk. "Who would think a simple Wide-Eye Potion variation could do such a thing, hmmm?"

"Just as well," Hermione said probingly, "I wouldn't know what to do with it throughout the year if I still had it."

At the clear question in her voice, Dumbledore chuckled. "I do have a task for you, if you're willing."

Hermione nodded.

Leaning back in his chair, Dumbledore explained. "You informed us about young Mr Malfoy, and we agreed on the next course of action. We'd like you to befriend him and let slip some information, a test … it's the only way to be sure of his allegiances.

"We need you to let slip that Harry will be visiting Godric's Hollow, his parents' home, Halloween night," Dumbledore told her. "You tell young Mr Malfoy he will be escorted there by two Order members, and then if an attack is made that night we will know he made the leak. Can you do this?"

"Of course, sir," Hermione agreed immediately. "Befriend Malfoy, or at least get comfortable enough to let something like that slip. Is there an ideal time to inform him? A week before Halloween, for example?"

"I trust your judgement, Miss Granger," Dumbledore nodded. "I'm sure you will do well."

Hermione thanked him and got up to leave. Just as she was about to leave, Dumbledore called out, "Oh, and before I forget, I got into contact with that former student of mine. She has agreed to see you next Sunday for tea."

"Really?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Come to my office Sunday at two, and I'll see you to her home. Now, go, enjoy the Hogsmeade weekend you have."

She did. Her and the boys hadn't spent any time in Honeydukes or Scrivenshafts the previous day, so they recitifed that oversight first thing that day. Hermione had realized, after a week of messy Potions classes, that the few robes she had were not enough to last until the elves did the staff laundry on weekends, and so she left the boys to Zonkos and went to Twilfits and Tattings. Once again having to resort to her Gringotts checks for purchases, she bought a few more outer robes that would be fit for teaching potions class and assisting Sev- _Professor Snape._

She was determined not to think of him as Severus, not until the next week when she was set to meet with the witch in question. Still, it was difficult. Her magic constantly tried to pull her towards the castle throughout her Hogsmeade day, and when she returned to brew that evening it was directing her to get intimate with her Master once again. When it did, she reflexively grabbed the apprenticeship mark around her neck, using it to keep her grounded and away from the ethereal magic that was guiding her.

Professor Snape was a consummate professional during their time in his personal lab, never touching her or lingering too close. Neither of them mentioned their previous relationship, and neither of them acted on their previous habits, like sharing kisses or grabbing each others' hands when they left the room.

Not sharing their usual intimacies made Hermione's magic flare, but also left her discontent and tense. Always afraid of messing up, always worried he would find this arrangement more agreeable. She wanted, desperately, to have that familiarity back. She found herself leaning towards Severus during their time alone, as if her body knew she yearned to kiss him. She'd startle herself away from the actions when she caught it, but she could see the pain it inflicted on Professor Snape when she dangled her affection in front of him and pulled it away. It helped her stay away.

Monday morning a large banging echoed through the halls. Students on their way to breakfast, and Hermione coming back from a night training in a spare room, ran to find the source of the noise. Argus Filch was hammering a giant metal peg into the school's wall, just to the right of the Great Hall's doors. He hung a giant, framed sheet of paper.

That's how Hermione knew they'd been ratted out to Umbridge. That first declaration, banning all extra-curricular activities and group meetings not approved by the High Inquisitor was clearly aimed at the DA. She looked carefully at the people who came, looking for the signs of her hex, but they all looked unscathed and just as worried about the proclamation as she was. It must have been someone looking through the windows, or who noticed they were meeting. They wouldn't know what, then, but they knew Harry and them were leading it. Harry would be even more of a target.

Umbridge looked too self-satisfied, which made it a great relief when the mail arrived for the day. Daily Prophets were deposited in front of many of the student body, Hermione included. She was pleased to see that Rita Skeeter had come through; a front-page story about the new High Inquisitor, her approved bills of questionable nature, and Hermione's anonymous quotes about her competency and use of illegal corporal punishment on the students and how she declared it approved by the Minister of Magic. Better, still, Rita had interviewed some influential pureblood families about their thoughts on the use of these methods on students. The universal horror expressed from the quotations would go a long way to destabilize Umbridge and prompt Fudge to discipline her himself.

Umbridge's face contorted in a controlled, attempted calm that only highlighted the extreme nature of her rage. Her face was pink as her petticoat with her restraint. Snape looked at me with a look of warning, silently commanding me mute.

Professor McGonnagal didn't get the memo. "Delores, it seems as though you will be following our prescribed practises after all," she said primly, giving the Defence Professor a stern gaze. "Doesn't it?"

"Perhaps for now," Umbridge replied darkly. "Minerva."

With that parting, Umbridge quickly abandoned her breakfast and made her way from the hall, shooting Hermione a knowing glare in return. She had no proof, but Hermione knew that Umbridge would hold her responsible for anything that went wrong, much like Harry. The DA would need the coins sooner rather than later.

"I admit, that went better than I anticipated," Snape said, breaking her from her train of thought. "I wonder what compelled Miss Skeeter to keep her school source a secret?"

Hermione took a sip from her pumpkin juice. "She knows better."

"Meaning?" The brows raised.

Hermione thought for an appropriate euphemism. "I suppose Miss Skeeter didn't want to _bug_ the wrong person. It would be a shame for her to get _crushed under heel_ if she got on the bad side of the wrong person, wouldn't it?"

His piercing black eyes looked at her curiously, shrewd as ever. "Indeed."

That week, Hermione found the opportunity in her classes to distribute the DA coins to its members. She saved the Slytherins for when they all came to her office hours on Thursday. She had them sign the jinxed paper and then gave them the coins before dismissing the younger group and keeping the Slytherin girls. Since she had no idea when Harry and Ron would want to hold the first DA meeting, she wanted to teach the girls on her own as well, specifically in self-defence and survival skills. Moody had taught that to her first, knowing that if she needed to go on the run, she would need to survive. These girls would need it too.

That Sunday she arrived at Dumbledore's office in one of her fancier robes, not sure exactly what she was going to be doing that day with this other link witch. Dumbledore simply handed her a note. On it read the words _Throw this note in the fire to get to Manorside Cottage_. "I believe you arrived fifty-five minutes ago at a mutual friend of hours. I hope this was useful."

"I'm sure it was, sir," Hermione chuckled.

"Just so," Dumbledore agreed with a happy smile. "You know, I think I need to retrieve a text from my library."

With that lovely and conspicuous exit, he left her alone in the office so she could use the time-turner against her neck. She turned it back once before walking over to the fireplace and chucking in the parchment and stepping through.

She twirling sent her barreling through the fire and into a lovely rustic sitting room. Hardwood floors and beams in the roofwork, no rugs anywhere. There were scenes of nature mixed with pictures of a handsome couple on the walls, giving it all a very romantic cabin vibe. There, sitting on an ancient-looking sofa, was a kindly lady with a tea tray and cuppa in hand.

"Miss Granger?" She greeted. Hermione nodded. "Come now, no need to be timid. We're practically family! Take a seat. Would you care for some tea?"

"Umm, yes ma'am," Hermione took a seat and accepted the cup. "And do I call you Miss Lleonelin?"

"That's my maiden name, dear," she corrected. "It's Mrs. Oswin now."

Oh. Hermione forced a smile onto her face. "That's wonderful."

The woman gave her a look. "Trouble with your young man?"

Hermione refused to either correct her about the _young_ adjective, or confirm her troubles. She simply sipped her tea, avoiding the older woman's gaze.

"We'll come back to that, then," Mrs. Oswin persevered. "For now, I understand you recently turned eighteen."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You do look quite beautiful in your inheritance, dear," she complimented pleasantly. "What do you do with all your awake hours?"

"I read," Hermione blushed, "or train. I've been tutored in crafting, so I've using my time practising that and in grading as a Potion's Apprentice as well."

"Very good," Mrs. Oswin approved. "There are two things that can ruin people like us; idleness and the continuation of time. Keep busy, but also take an hour or two each night to sit in nature and lie in your magic. Trust me. As time goes on you'll need those hours to replace the peace of mind that sleep brings."

"I'll try it," Hermione sipped her tea again. She had a specific question in mind, but she didn't want to ask. Instead, she switched directions. "What powers do we have?"

"Powers?" she laughed at the young student. "Dear one, we have _magic._ We can have whatever power we like."

Her mocking tone made Hermione blush. "I-I mean, yes, b-but-"

"It's alright, Miss Granger," Mrs. Oswin chuckled. "You must understand, you and I are not creatures, we are simply humans with a greater degree of magic than most. So much so that we need to share it in various ways."

She placed down the teacup and reached for the fern in the middle of the coffee table, taking it in hand. "The legends of the xana have us as guardians of nature or seducers of men, respectively. Why do you think that is?"

Hermione hesitated. "Is it the same answer for both?"

Mrs. Oswin gave her a proud smile and nodded. "Oh, little one, magic is linked to everything living. Muggles, wizards, trees, animals … I find I prefer to live alone in the countryside, growing in my gardens, because my magic sings to them and feeds them. Nature is naturally in tune with us and doesn't fight the magic we share with them. Men … men are harder."

The fern under her fingertips grew and bloomed, a beautiful flower coming from the center.

"Did you feel the change?" the older woman asked.

Hermione shook her head.

"Use your magic and surround the plant," she was instructed. "Try to feel it as a living thing, with a magic of its own."

She did. Her magic surrounding the plant, she probed at the plant with her magic and tried to feel what the woman showed. Just like the grass under her feet in the evenings, it had its own pulse that fed lightly into her energy. Then Mrs. Oswin sent her own magic into the plant, and she could feel its energy respond and bloom under her.

"Wow," she murmured.

"You can do that with people too," Mrs. Oswin told her, "but they usually aren't as receptive."

"Really?" Hermione gasped.

Mrs. Oswin nodded. "I nearly went into teaching just because of it, you know; to be able to reach in and fan a student's magic until they can feel it within themselves, that would be so fulfilling. And yet … too many people are resistant to such meddling. An old soul like mine can only take so much rejection."

It reminded Hermione of how she felt when her magic interfered with hers and Severus' relationship. It was meddling, it was undermining free will … but the woman in front of her took it as a rejection of help, not as a refusal to comply with obedience.

"You're ages away, young one," Mrs. Oswin noted. "What troubles you?"

"You never feel like the magic is controlling you?" Hermione asked. The woman looked at her with comprehension. "It throws me at someone, and if I get mad at them it tries to distract me or undermine me."

"Were you unable to stay mad, dear?" the old woman replied kindly. "Or was it more like something interrupted your anger and you realized you were wrong to be that way?"

She patted Hermione's hand familiarly. "Dear, your magic feels like an extra limb, but its more than that. Think of it as a new instinct. It's in tune with you, with your partner, with the people around you … it will intervene if the magic around you suffers. Anger makes magic suffer and lose its balance. Depression, anger, mourning, loss, they all negatively impact your magic. It makes sense that if such a living thing as your magic is suffering, it will try to right it."

Hermione thought on it. "So if the Forbidden Forest started going up in flame-?"

Mrs. Oswin nodded. "You would be compelled to intervene. If there was a death in the school or a student was suffering enough to affect their magic, you would be drawn to that student for some reason. As a link witch, I'm in a symbiotic relationship with my magic; it uses me to fix the magical environment, and I receive a larger portion of power. If I don't want to be in that relationship, I go somewhere that doesn't require my attention. Here."

"That's why you're isolated," Hermione grasped.

The lady nodded. "I was being forced to save lives and be part of a war I didn't want to be a part of with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Much like you, I decided that being forced to do one thing or another was too much for me and I left."

"But you can do so much good!" Hermione protested.

Mrs. Oswin gave her a stern look. "You can too."

That shut her up.

"So," Mrs. Oswin lifted up her tea cup again, "which young man do I have to blame for you considering isolation yourself?"

"I'm not-"

"Don't insult me," the woman said sternly. "I could see the consideration you were giving it. Even if I didn't, you do realize that I live in isolation, right? I chose this. I had every reason, and men are certainly part of it."

Hermione bit her lip. "I just, I don't want to be forced to behave one way or another in a relationship. I felt for him before the, er, transformation, but I still feel like he could want something and my magic would force me to want it too. I can't trust myself."

"Of course you can, dear!" Mrs. Oswin insisted. "You mustn't believe that the magic is interfering with how you react. It is simply helping. It is a voice of reason and compassion, especially in the times when we forget or don't have enough."

"But that reason is different from mine!" Hermione pointed out, frustrated. "I deserve to be angry sometimes, I deserve to be upset!"

"Did it stop you from becoming angry?" Mrs. Oswin demanded. "Did it keep you from feeling frustrated, upset, or sad?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Let me tell you the secret of a successful marriage;" the older womanleaned forward, capturing Hermione's gaze in her own tenderly; "we never deserve any of it. We don't deserve roses, or breakfast in bed, or to get angry. We are imperfect. But," she raised her hands, preparing her defense, "do you believe he does?"

Hermione was stopped by that. Severus deserved everything. He was a spy for the order, had given his life and happiness away to help people. And when she really thought about it, he deserved a lot more than she had given him the other day. Like the faith that he was worth working through the magic diverting her mind and energies.

"If we feel we deserve perfection, we'll be disappointed," Mrs. Oswin advised kindly. "You can't expect perfection when you, yourself, are not perfect. It takes work, and the maturity to admit what's wrong. It takes caring more taking. We deserve only to be loved, in whatever form that may take. It is never about what we deserve in a relationship, it's about what we can give. And good relationships give back."

"Can I even trust my feelings?" Hermione asked.

"Yes."

Her swift and concise reply soothed her mind, somewhat. She needed to spend more time in Severus' company to decide if it was true though. In context with the impulses of her magic from the previous week, it seemed a stark contrast. She tried to look at it with outside eyes. There was little doubt she appreciated Severus, or she would be angry with him as much as she was with Malfoy, or even Ron. She had wanted to kiss him before the change, she had felt indebted to him before that. If Mrs. Oswin told her she could trust her feelings, and it was only the compulsions she should worry about, did that mean that all her compelled feelings were feelings she _allowed_ to be compelled? That the magic was simply helping her relationship with him?

"So if, before this, I thought I might love him?" Hermione whispered, almost unwilling to say the words to a stranger before Severus. But she needed to know. She could feel how desperate her face appeared, but she didn't care.

Mrs. Oswin looked at her with kindness, and for the first time in the trip Hermione felt an unfamiliar magic surround her, comforting her. She automatically fought it, forcing herself to feel tension. "Dear, let me comfort you."

"It's not comfort if it's forced!" Hermione protested.

"That is what I'm showing you," Mrs. Oswin told her calmly. "You can feel what I'm sending you, yes? The magic?"

"You mean the feelings." The magic seeped into her body, relaxing her and bringing her mind to the calm that had eluded her that week.

"No, the magic," the older lady shook her head. "No, it is a prompt, nothing more. You decide whether to accept it or to fight it. And I can tell you've been fighting it for a little while."

Hermione only nodded.

"So…" Mrs. Oswin smiled mischievously, "how about you stop fighting, for the next … say … hour? And you tell me if you feel better."

It was a challenge. What could Hermione do but accept?

So, she let her magic do as it wished and accept Mrs. Oswin's foreign influence. It flooded through her as if pumped through her very blood, clearing her body from every ounce of tension she felt. Then, once she'd accepted it and let it work its – for lack of a better word – magic, it retreated and her own magic reared up to the forefront, spreading and tasting the environment. Hermione hadn't realized just how restrained she had kept her magic until it had been freed by Mrs. Oswin. It flooded everywhere, tasting everything. It touched the other link witch with affection, caressed the plant on the table with love, and then rushed through her to remind her of their one-ness.

"Alright?" Mrs. Oswin queried. At her nod, the older woman gave her a broad, sincere smile. "Then come on, I want to show you my greenhouses."

They spent the next hour training her in the things Hermione had been rejecting. She had felt uncomfortable using her magic to feel her environment, worried that she was violating her peers, colleagues, and students by letting her magic surround them. Instead, she saw how an environment of magic helped the plants and listened as Mrs. Oswin told her how it helped her friends. The magic environment could draw the inherent power from her students in a way that couldn't be artificially replicated. In essence, her students would become better for her lack of control.

She was taught about her connection to nature. Magic was, in essence, the use of life force external to that life. It drew from earth, from beings, from within her and could be shared with everything that was comprised of matter. She even was allowed to grow some of the aconite with her powers and pluck it for Severus' stores.

That hour was the most rejuvenating she'd spent since shutting out Severus. She never realized just how off-balance she'd made herself by rejecting her bond with him, but it became clear that she was hurting herself to do it.

At the end of it, she stood at the fireplace with another scrap of parchment, ready to return to the school.

"Thank you," she told the fellow link witch. She bit her lip hesitantly. "I really don't want to leave."

She didn't. It was so peaceful here, and she had someone like her to talk to.

Mrs. Oswin beamed at her. "If you ever need me dear-" she extended a hand with a scrap of paper, "this is the only name the owls will know how to deliver to. I am far from society, so owls take some time, but better than nothing. True?"

"Absolutely," Hermione grinned.

Mrs. Oswin placed an arm on her shoulder. "And please, consider righting things with this man. Magic is rarely mistaken – the bond it formed with him is for a reason, and I've found happiness and strength with every partner it has chosen for me. He will be good for you, if you're not afraid to accept him."

* * *

 **Another chapter, and now I have the whole plot mapped out! That means I'll be a bit faster with updates, hopefully. I started too many stories, I guess. Still, the best thing for my stories are reviews! REVIEW PLEASE!**


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

* * *

That was the third weekend of September.

The fourth week of September, Hermione avoided Severus. She worked odd hours to complete his potions every day, usually using her Time-Turner, and held her tongue in between classes. Severus seemed eager to avoid her as well, letting her do her potions without his supervision and grade without his input. The week passed in silence.

The first week of October, she tried to approach him. But whenever she got close – oh, so close – to telling him she wanted him still, her magic would mute her. The complete antithesis of her magic's previous promptings made her worried, and she wrote to Mrs. Oswin in hopes of getting some answers.

So Hermione stopped pining over Severus, waiting for either Mrs. Oswin or her magic to encourage her one last time, and instead focused on Dumbledore's task for her: Draco Malfoy. She dropped a few notes in his bag during the fifth-year class, hoping he would either be curious or annoyed enough to confront her.

He did.

It was he second week in October and she was patrolling the dungeons before curfew. Suddenly and without warning she was taken by surprise, yanked into a nearby broom closet. Her wand was immediately against her assailants throat like Mad-Eye had taught her, except for instead of a Death Eater it was Malfoy. He had raised his hand instinctively, as if showing he knew she could hurt him quicker than he could react.

"Damn it, what is with you Slytherins and jumping me while I patrol?!" She snapped. "Why can't you talk to me like regular human beings? I could have hurt you, Malfoy!"

"Yes, well, I was under the impression you didn't have combat training," Malfoy snarked, eyes firmly fixed on her wand. "If I apologize, will you put down your weapon?"

Hermione rolled her eyes but lowered it. "Don't strain yourself Malfoy – I don't think you've apologized once in your life."

"Nonsense," Malfoy straightened his robes elegantly. "Learning to apologize like a Malfoy was the fifteenth of sixty etiquette lessons from my mother when I turned eight."

"Lord, I didn't think you could sound any more like an aristocrat," Hermione chuckled. "I'm glad you got my notes."

Malfoy nodded stiffly. "You said you're having some difficulties with godfather?"

"Just … call him Severus, if you're not going to call him Professor Snape," Hermione huffed. "It's too weird."

It was Malfoy's turn to roll his eyes. "Whatever you say, Granger. Now, why did you need?"

She knew she needed to pick her words carefully. This was how she could do something for the Order, and save Malfoy. These next few words needed to lead him into friendship with her. Or … something. So she cheated.

She extended her magic to surround Malfoy. His feelings were of genuine concern, but there was something else. There was an undercurrent of … well, the need to be needed was the only way to describe it. She needed to put herself at his mercy.

"I … I don't think I'll be able to get out of the apprenticeship," she told him. "What I need is your cunning to help me avoid being exploited."

It was a downright lie, telling him she needed his help, but the look of satisfaction on his face was worth it and her magic agreed. His own magic was starting to accept hers reticently, but he was obviously pleased with her words.

Malfoy eyed her up and down, trying to hide his smirk. "So, Granger needs my help. And what do I get from this situation?"

Time to put down the first semblance of trust. She took a deep breath. "Whatever you want."

That broke the smirk out of Malfoy's face. He grabbed onto her and leaned her against the broom cupboards shelves, making them dig into her back. She gasped; his magic was spiking, lustful.

"When a girl tells me that, Granger, it generally ends with her in my bed," Malfoy murmured, his mouth dangerously close to hers, "after a few hours of _mutual pleasure_."

"You just want to seduce a teacher," Hermione scoffed half-heartedly, not willing to let him win and also not willing to deny him when his defection was on the line. "I'm not one of your conquests, Malfoy."

He absorbed her words carefully, maintaining his close proximity. She could taste the mint on his breath, and the smell of some expensive cologne. Then, he suddenly moved back and laughed.

"Don't look so serious, Granger." She eyed him warily as if he were going to pin her to the shelves again, and he just rolled his eyes. "Alright, I'll be your _Slytherin mentor_ if you accept two conditions. One, you are going to set aside one evening a week to tutor me."

"Tutor _you_?" Hermione scoffed. "Malfoy, I have to fight you and Theo every year for the best grades. You don't need help."

"As you say, it was against me, you, and Theo. This year I also have to fight that Turpin girl," Malfoy sneered the last one. "I want to be the best. No competition. And I can beat Theo easily if I have know-it-all Granger tutoring me."

"Okay, say I agree," Hermione quirked her brow, "what would the second condition be?"

"Two," he grinned, "you let me in to that Defense group of Potter's."

Hermione started. "No, no, I'm not betraying Harry."

"You have no idea how to negotiate, do you Granger?" Malfoy smirked. "First lesson in cunning is to think, think very hard, about my request. What's the upside for me? What's the upside for you? Now, how can you keep me from taking advantage? You already have that cursed parchment, but Slytherins are notorious for finding every loophole. That in mind, you need to think of any reason you have or could provide so I wouldn't want to turn in your little Defense group. Something or someone to hold over me."

She thought hard, but couldn't think of anything.

"Granger," he shook his head, "firstly, if my parents – or worse, my aunt – heard I joined Potter's little defense club it would mean my head. Secondly, I'm friends with Pansy and the Greengrass sisters. Do you think I would turn in a group with them in it?"

Hermione smiled feebly. "I thought they wouldn't tell anyone."

"Pansy told me before they all signed that enchanted parchment of yours," Draco smirked. "Yes, they knew. When you're a Slytherin you always check for spells before you sign anything. Look, I'm not going to turn you in, Potter or not. I'm the one who recommended they come to you."

"You?" she gasped. "You?"

"Yes, me," Malfoy moved forward. "I think that has earned a little bit of compliance on your part, correct?"

"I-I-" she couldn't speak. His magic was overwhelming. It was pushing, insistent. It was like when her magic was compelling her to forgive Severus. "Why?"

"Why do I want in Potter's little rebellion group? I want to keep an eye on my friends," Malfoy told her, a dark glint in his eyes. "I don't let anyone hurt them, and I don't want you lions taking advantage of them like my Lord and Master. Now, do we have a deal?"

"Malfoy-"

"Say yes, Granger," he ordered. "For once, just say yes."

He needed it. She could feel it in his magic, in his words. It reminded her of when Mrs. Oswin taught her about her magic, when she felt a plants' needs for the first time. It was strange, comparing Malfoy to a plant. But it felt similar to the need for sunlight she'd felt in a fern. So, for the first time, she submitted to her magic.

"Yes."

Just with that one word, Malfoy's stern exterior melted. He smiled genuinely at her and took her hand in his, bowing graciously to capture it in a formal but tender kiss. "Thank you."

"Harry's going to use you for target practise," she warned him. "The entire fifth year class kind of hates you."

"I'm used to it, Granger," Malfoy said with a forced bravado. "I can handle them."

Hermione shook her head. "I'll try to get them to be civil, but if you could refrain from saying anything snarky, or insulting, or … um, if you could avoid _speaking_ it would help it."

Malfoy did a trademark smirk. "I will be on my best behaviour."

So, with a sigh, Hermione took out a spare fake coin from her pocket and handed it to Malfoy. He looked at it with an arched brow.

"Granger, I'm rich," he stated, completely serious.

"It's not real," Hermione rolled her eyes. "It a fake coin with an advanced Protean charm. If you touch the serial numbers with your wand or with your wandless magic and think of what you want to say, it'll show up on every member's coins. I'm going to be using it to communicate the time and place of meetings."

Malfoy looked at her with a degree of trepidation. "You're not forcing me to sign that parchment of yours first?"

"I'll get you to do it when I meet you for your tutoring," Hermione warned him. "Thursday night?"

And so she started to get closer to the Malfoy heir. She planted the knowledge of Harry's supposed trip to Godric's Hollow on Halloween just as Dumbledore instructed, but she had decided Malfoy was strangely trustworthy. She was looking forward to him proving Dumbledore wrong the coming holiday.

Before the day arrived though, a letter came from Mrs. Oswin (under her alias of Charity Heathcliff). It was less than helpful, but it comforted her a little.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _This is not something I have ever experienced, but perhaps what I know about magic will help. Magic knows better than we do what is best for us and our partners. If your young man isn't ready for you, perhaps this is why your magic is hesitant with your coupling up once again. I did feel somewhat similarly to you when I was a young girl just out of Hogwarts, only I know it was because the boy was too young for me to pursue until he had matured. I simply waited for him, grew and learned, and then, when the time was right, I let my feelings known to him._

 _I know you've already been through this with your young man, but perhaps by you willingly denying the bond you have hurt it in some way and you must wait to act again. I'm afraid I have no other advice than that. Wait, watch, and feel for when your magic deems you ready again._

 _Until then, I'm only an owl away._

* * *

It was finally Halloween. Dumbledore was assembling Order members in case they had a chance to catch Death Eaters tonight, and Hermione was able to convince him that she should be there. She was in his office, preparing. Most of the Order was already in Godric's Hollow, but she was getting the final instructions from Dumbledore before she, too, took position. Severus was not going to know where she was until the night was over, but Dumbledore promised her that he would take care of you.

"He's known for a week," Hermione reassured him, fixing her cloak and hood to disguise her distinctive curly hair. "If Malfoy really does betray me – which you know I don't think he will – it will have happened by now. Who's my partner?"

"Remus," Dumbledore informed her. "You'll find him at the graveyard, by the Potter grave."

Hermione gasped. "You had him wait there?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "He goes there every year, provided its not a full moon. He wanted to pay his respects just in case he did not receive a change once night fell."

Her heart panged in her chest as she thought of the returning mourning of Remus – who actually knew them – as opposed to Harry who grew melancholy this day every week. She focused on releasing her magic, making sure it was extended before she met the werewolf. He'd need her comfort.

"Anything else, Headmaster?"

"No," the kindly man shook his head. "Just apparate to the gates when the night is over and they'll let you in. I hope you're right about Mister Malfoy and you have a calm Halloween night."

She accepted the offered Floo powder and tossed it into the fire with a yell of ' _Bagshot Cottage'_ before walking through to the home of this unknown witch. She was greeted by an extremely elderly old lady who offered her a hand up.

"Welcome, Miss Granger," she grinned at her. "Need anything before ye go? Cuppa? Loo?"

"No, thank you Miss Bagshot," she declined kindly. "I need-"

The woman shushed her. "No talk of work with me, lass. I don't care. Yer friend has been in the graveyard for about a half-hour now, though, so ye best fetch him before he gives himself away. Away with ye."

Hermione thanked the old lady kindly before hurrying out the door of the Bagshot residence. She assured herself that the hood was firmly in place before strolling calmly and (hopefully) inconspicuously towards the church. It was only October, but there was a distinctive nip in the air. She felt at the wand in her holster, assuring herself that it was there and ready.

Remus was still knelt in front of the Potter stone, a small bouquet of wildflowers on the headstone. She let her magic feel what his was doing in the air, feeling the sadness, before wrapping around him firmly. She saw Remus stiffen and felt him fighting her magic's attempts to comfort him and knelt nect to him, wrapping her arm in his.

"It's alright, Remus," Hermione whispered, not looking at him.

Remus was still stiff. "When was the last time we spoke?"

"First day of term," Hermione frowned. Then she remembered the security questions. "I Floo called you from my quarters at Hogwarts to talk about Lily."

Finally, she felt her magic allowed to comfort him. She pushed some energies into him, hoping that the magic would know what to do. It did. He gripped her hand firmly and gave her a tiny smile in her periphery.

"Thank you."

Her magic was suddenly shifting, dividing attention from Lupin away form him. "What are you doing here?!" the roar came behind them, making them turn around to see the violently angry Severus Snape behind them. If looks could kill, Lupin would be dead.

"Severus, we're on a mission," Hermione whispered urgently. She tried to go to him, but Lupin held her fast, wand already drawn. "What?"

"Hermione, we need to confirm his identity," Remus held her fast. "What did you promise me last time we spoke?"

Snape glared at him, but his eyes met Hermione's for a brief but meaningful moment. "I gave you my word that I would not get drunk in the presence of Miss Granger again."

Hermione fought the urge to laugh. Of course, that's what they would talk about.

"What are you doing here, Severus?" Remus let Hermione go and pocketed his wand, but remained a distance away from the livid man.

He glared at the werewolf. "Are you the only one _allowed_ to pay respects, wolf? I was not informed of any reason for me to be kept away today."

"Dumbledore," Hermione groaned. They should have told him, she knew it, but Dumbledore had insisted on keeping him out of the loop. "Severus, we'll just get out of your way. Come on Remus."

"The _werewolf_ will go, but you need to stay," Severus said, approaching the pair. He ripped her hand from Remus and glared at the wolf. "Leave."

Remus shot her a look, making sure she was ok. She gave him a grimace. "It's alright. Wait for me close-by."

Severus rounded on her soon after Remus left their sight, but Hermione wasn't having it. Her magic was telling her to get him out of there, that it was dangerous for him to be there. She needed to get him out of there.

"You do not get to talk to people like that!" she hissed at the man. "I'm sorry Dumbledore didn't want me to tell you what was going on tonight, but we can't have you here. There's a mission going on!"

When Severus didn't give a single indicator of listening to her, she pushed the man's arm. "Really, you need to go!"

"And let my apprentice spend the night waiting for dark wizards to attack her?" Severus snarled. "Unlikely. Go tell Lupin to find Miss Tonks, as she's undoubtedly eager for his company - I'll be your partner."

"You're not blowing your cover to protect me, Severus!" She watched his fists clench around the flowers he'd brought. "The only thing you're doing is going back to Hogwarts and pretending you don't know we're here! I'm not letting you put yourself in danger!"

She saw Severus grimace, but when he spoke, his words were unnaturally soft. "I'm not leaving, _Hermione_. That is the first time you've called me my name in over a month, and the first time you've spoken to me like a friend in nearly that long."

Hermione was shamed. She had been trying to be professional, calling him Master every time she saw him and Professor Snape whenever she didn't, but in her urge to keep him safe his name had simply slipped out. Without acknowledging her misstep, she sighed.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I don't know what to do yet."

He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, igniting a strong magical reaction. Her magic was still telling her not to jump into it yet, but it wanted so desperately to be close to him.

"Promise me," Snape whispered low enough that presumably Lupin couldn't hear, "promise it will not be the last time. You'll come to me, the moment you are ready?"

She nodded her promise and let the Potions Master stride forward, place his flowers delicately next to Lupin's, and then, with a final entreating look, apparate away. If he was waiting for her, why did her magic not want her to approach? Why was it keeping her from making it right?

She trod over to where Professor Lupin was leaning with his elbows resting on the old iron fence surrounding the graveyard.

"Are you alright?" Lupin asked, eyes not breaking from the ever darkening streets.

She looked over her shoulder, as if Severus would just appear. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. We've just been at odds for a bit."

Lupin frowned at her, seeming to understand something she wasn't saying. It made her nervous. "What are you fighting about? Anything I can do?"

"No, nothing," she waved him off. "Just a professional disagreement. Now, where are we stationed?"

Lupin led her over to an old city bench just at the side of the chapel where he tucked her under his arm with a hurried explanation of seeming like they were a father and daughter here to mourn a dead mother or something like that. With that, they froze and just looked around, ever vigilant for trips in Lupins alarm spells or movement to indicate activity.

It was an hour in before Lupin spoke again. "Hermione, don't think me impertinent, but I have to ask … Is Professor Snape treating you well?"

Hermione kept herself looking outward, although she wanted nothing more than to analyze Lupin's face to understand what exactly he was getting at with his tone. Instead, she said calmly, "What do you mean?"

She felt Remus take a large breath. "He's not being … _inappropriate_ towards you?"

Hermione froze. "Are you accusing me of something?" She could feel Remus becoming flustered next to her. "Are you accusing _him_?"

"No," Remus denied quickly. "No, Severus is, well, not the best tempered, but an honourable man nonetheless. No, I'm not accusing. You are both of age and any relationship between you would be legal. I just want to be sure he's not making you uncomfortable. The, er, interaction you just had is not normal for Severus. I think he, er, likes you."

"I hope so," Hermione muttered, forgetting the werewolf hearing for a second but knowing Remus' head just pivoted to hers. "I mean, I like him as well, Remus. We're not too far apart in age, just fifteen years – probably less by now, I mean, I'm trying to keep track of how much I age but I'm getting close to nineteen magically – and he is passionate and driven and good … He's very kind to me."

Remus was silent for a while. "Then what was your exchange all about? I mean, we have a while if – IF it's something you'd like to talk about."

Hermione sighed. Maybe Remus would know what to do, I mean, werewolves mate too, right? "I needed time. I mean, I want him back right this second, but I broke it off for a while and now I don't feel like it's the right time to go to him and tell him he was right about everything and that I still lo-like him. I mean, Severus and I have a strange connection that I didn't expect to affect me so much. It was like I _had_ to be with him, but I didn't want to feel like I was force into it. But now … did I miss my chance, Remus? Will he ever be ready to open up to me again?"

That was it. The question she'd never let herself vocalise. He had opened up to her, and then she'd pushed him away. Amicably, but still with force. Would she be able to win his trust back? Would he trust that she would never leave him again if she did? Or would he always be waiting for the second things became to much, or another aspect of her magic manifested and freaked her out? She had made it harder by letting them break it off before her meeting with Mrs. Oswin.

"Nothing is keeping you from him but yourself," he told her quietly. "I don't know what this was about, but I can tell Severus cares about you. He wouldn't have nearly forced you to be his partner tonight if he didn't. Knowing what little I do about him, he's probably not expecting you to take him back at all and is only waiting until he hears you've gone and started dating someone else to truly and utterly give up."

Hermione sighed. "Is that what happened with Lily?"

Silence. Then a sigh. "Yes. He used to wait for her outside the common room every day after they fought. He wanted their friendship back, but we all knew he liked her. He kept waiting, and waiting, and waiting, until one day James told him Lily and him were dating and she wasn't going to come back. I don't think he ever spoke to her again."

* * *

No Death Eaters showed up, but Hermione learned a lot that evening from Remus. She had made a decision to do something for Severus, something big and elaborate to prove to him she was not only coming back, but that she wished she'd never left. Magic be damned.

It would have to wait until after Malfoy's first DA meeting though. With his loyalty no longer in question, Hermione officially had him sign the parchment and brought him to the first November meeting of the DA. She was going to warn Harry and Ron, she was, but there was never a good time. She realized, after trying for a third night, that there would never be a good time. So she decided to just show up with him. Severus would scoff at that, mocking her for choosing the most _Gryffindor_ approach, but the thought only made her smile.

The second week of October came and the weekly DA meeting was set. They still had to find another place to practise, so for now they were still in her common room. Draco was waiting for her by the Potions room, dressed as casually as she guessed the Malfoy heir had in his closet. Still, she noticed and appreciated his effort not to look like the pompous kid Harry and Ron knew.

"You ready?" He nodded swiftly, determinedly. "I'll go in first, tell them we have a new member. When you come in, try to look … I don't know ... sheepish?"

" _Sheepish?_ " Draco scoffed. "Granger, I would rather get hexed."

Hermione flushed. "Sorry."

She led him to her common room, where they were meeting for now, and posted him outside the door. She spoke the password so he could hear – Amortentia, ironically – and entered to the nearly packed room. She left the door open a crack so Malfoy could hear when he was supposed to enter. Harry had already begun the instruction, but looked up at her entering with a smile.

"I have an announcement!" she called to the largely filled room. They silenced somewhat "We have a new member. Now, many of you may not like him, but he has signed the parchment and I am completely convinced he will not be a problem if we treat him the same way we treat each other. He has given me his word that he will not try to make trouble; he is here to learn, the same as the rest of us." And look out for the Slytherin girls, but they didn't need to know that. "Do you promise to give him a chance?"

The room nodded, confused. A few Ravenclaws seemed to view it as a riddle and were whispering possible candidates under their breath, all Slytherins. Hermione nodded to them.

"Alright, come on in Malfoy," Hermione called. At his name, several shouts and whispers broke out, only escalating once his signature blond head came into view. Harry looked horrified, and Ron looked red enough to have swallowed a Pepper-Up.

Draco took in the room, largely filled with Gryffindors who hated him, and grinned. "Alright, who wants to hex me first?"

"Malfoy!" Hermione hissed.

He looked at her, but gave her a look that implied something she didn't know. She scowled at him.

"I meant it," he told the room, his chin raised. "Who's brave enough to have a go? You all believe I more than deserve it."

Harry stepped forward then, his face uncertain. Everyone watched now, breathing put on hold for the confrontation.

"I thought so," Draco replied. "Well, Potter, enjoy this. It's the only time I won't fight back."

Harry shook his head. "I don't attack people, Malfoy, and I don't go back on my word. But I want to ask you, not 'Mione, why you're here."

Malfoy scowled at the boy who lived. "Why do you think? You have a bunch of Slytherins in here at the mercy of Gryffindors. I'm here to make sure they're not being used as target practise."

Hermione was shocked. She had never expected him to admit his motives in front of the group, albeit accusingly. Harry's eyes widened briefly at the supposition before they relaxed into understanding.

"Here," he extended his hand, giving Malfoy a pointed look. "Let's leave the past in the past, alright?"

Draco looked at Harry's hand, then back up to his face, incredulous.

"Just like that?" Harry nodded, and Malfoy's eyes widened. "All it takes is Granger's word and a piece of parchment?"

"That's all," Harry nodded, his face serious but sympathetic. "I trust 'Mione with my life, and she is putting herself on the line for you. So, I'll join her.

"You wanted us to be friends when we first met, and I didn't take your hand. Want to give it another go?"

Malfoy didn't hesitate, taking Harry's hand and shaking it properly. "My thanks, Potter."

Suddenly the room's door banged open, revealing an excited and heavy breathing Neville. "Guys! I found a room!"

As Neville led groups up to the Come and Go Room, Hermione saw Malfoy interact with his friends briefly before coming to her, gently grabbing her arm before leaning into her ear.

"Thank you."

She fought the smile that was threatening to show itself to the blonde. "Don't strain yourself, Malfoy."

He chuckled but nodded gratefully before returning to Pansy's side.

They moved to the Room of Requirement. Because they had Hermione's common room for the past two months, they were ahead in their defense instruction. They had gone through the basics, the most common creatures and defensive spells. They had mastered expelliarmus, reducto, stupefy, and protego, and now it was time to move on. Hermione was excited – for the first time since Mad-Eye tried to teach her the Patronus, she was going to be trying it again. Hopefully with her new magic, she could do it.

*They had finally started work on Patronuses, which everybody had been very keen to practise, though, as Harry kept reminding them, producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when they were not under threat was very different from producing it when confronted by something like a Dementor.

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy," said Cho brightly, watching her silvery swan-shaped Patronus soar around the Room of Requirement during their last lesson before Easter. "They're so pretty!"

"They're not supposed to be pretty, they're supposed to protect you," said Harry patiently. "What we really need is a boggart or something; that's how I learned, I had to conjure a Patronus while the boggart was pretending to be a Dementor—"

"But that would be really scary!" said Lavender, who was shooting puffs of silver vapour out of the end of her wand. "And I still-can't-do it!" she added angrily.

Neville was having trouble, too. His face was screwed up in concentration, but only feeble wisps of silver smoke issued from his wand tip.

"You've got to think of something happy," Harry reminded him.

"I'm trying," said Neville miserably, who was trying so hard his round face was actually shining with sweat.

"Harry, I think I'm doing it!" yelled Seamus, who had been brought along to his first ever DA meeting by Dean. "Look-ah-it's gone ... but it was definitely something hairy, Harry!"

Hermione, though, was having more trouble than Harry. Every time she tried to use the happy memory of her parents, it just produced a silvery smoke. It was hardly anything, not enough to hold of a single dementor as Mad-Eye had told her gruffly one day. She huffed and just about threw her wand when Harry came round, seeing her angry, terrible face.

"I can't do it!" she hissed, raising her wand again. " _Expecto Patronum!_ See?"

Harry saw, and saw Hermione's poor little mist spew out. But more than that, he saw her disquiet when she said the incantation. So he put a hand gently on her arm and had her lower her wand, making her turn to him in confusion.

"You're draining yourself, 'Mione," Harry told her calmly. "You have the mist, so you're doing the spell right. You just need the right feeling and memory when you cast it. I know we talked about this before-"

"There's nothing that makes me happier than my parents," Hermione interrupted with a huff. "If I can't do it with that, I won't be able to."

Harry remembered his own thinking, back in his first few lessons with Remus. He had thought of his happiest memories, his friends at Christmas and his first broomride, but it still wasn't enough. So he told Hermione that. He told her about his memories not being enough, about his first few lessons, about the failed attempts. She listened with rapture, taking in not only what he was saying but what his magic was. He was wistful when talking about it, like he was talking about a journey of self-discovery.

"So, how did you manage it?" Hermione insisted, now desperate for an answer.

Harry sighed. "I think, sometimes, its hard for people to cast Patronuses because, while they're happy with the memory, that doesn't do anything to make them invulnerable to sadness. It can't just be a happy thought, 'Mione, and it doesn't have to be a memory. I thought about my parents, even though I have never known them. I though, I mean – in Remus' office, he was just looking at me, and for a moment I thought 'Mum and Dad would be proud'. That was it. The thought of them seeing me, learning from one of their oldest friends, and being proud. It didn't make it anything more than a fantasy, but it made my connection to them real. It was more than happiness, 'Mione."

He left Hermione to think about it. And think she did. She thought of trying to imagine her parents being proud of her like Harry, but hers didn't know she existed and she had done that. She couldn't cast a patronus while feeling guilty. She couldn't use her parents.

So … her friends. She pictured Harry, scar-free and Voldemort free, visiting her for Thanksgiving with a faceless wife in the future. Visiting her and Ron and the trio being together well into their lives. She produced an actual shield this time, but it still wasn't corporeal like Cho Chang's. It wasn't quite the right thought.

She realized she had been so tense and controlling that she had been unconsciously restricting her instinctive magic. She tried to relax and let it take over. A few deep breaths and Occlumency visualizations, and her magic reared around her, prompting her the way it should when she needed it. Then, it prompted her one more time. Not to relax, but to think of Severus.

She smiled instinctively, then realized she needed to approach her thoughts of Severus the same way she did Ron and Harry – she needed to picture her hope for their future. What she truly wanted from her own future, and it included him.

She closed her eyes and just let herself feel. Feel her happiness at seeing Severus enter their future home, kissing her softly in greeting, as if she was a gift. She helped him brew for their own apothecary, right out from of their home. She gasped, realizing she'd pictured herself with a round belly. She wanted to be pregnant, with _his_ child. She wanted a family with him.

She was seconds away from running to the dungeons and getting Severus, begging him to take her back. But her magic gave her one more prompt, to finish and cast her Patronus. She raised her wand, and with the image of him, free of Voldemort and his forced reputation, free of the school Dumbledore wanted him to teach at, she cast it.

Her voice wasn't louder than a whisper, but it was firm. " _Expecto Patronum_."

Her patronus leapt from her wand and trotted around the room, drawing looks from the other practicing students. With a leap, it extended its massive wings and flew towards the ceiling gracefully before disappearing. She'd done it, and her patronus was an Aethonian Winged Horse.

And it was all because of Severus.

She took a second to run to Harry and give him a hug, thanking him for sharing his own experience, before she ran from the room towards the dungeons. She hadn't felt so happy in months, and she finally understood what her magic was telling her; Severus wasn't the one who wasn't ready, it was _her_. She had come back from that meeting with Mrs. Oswin ready to suck up her pride and succumb to the magic. But her magic didn't want her to lose her pride, it wanted her to let the magic be a part of her. As Severus was already a part of her.

Now, though, now she knew. She knew she loved him, she knew it had nothing to do with her magic, and she knew she needed him.

She burst through his office door, startling the black-clad Potions Master in the middle of his marking. He jumped up from his seat, relaxing only a little when he saw it was her.

"Miss Granger, what-?"

She didn't let him finish. She ran up to him and kissed him soundly on the lips, ignoring the way he stiffened up at her forced contact. She kissed his mouth, his cheeks, his neck, and then pulled him into a ferocious bear hug, unwilling to let him push her away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she murmured into his lapel. "I was going to set up a surprise in the Potion's lab Saturday morning, but I couldn't help it. I need you. Please tell me that's alright, please forgive me. I shouldn't have left you."

There was a tense silence, Professor Snape still frozen above her. Finally, after a moment, she felt his relax slightly. "What surprise were you going to do?"

Hermione smiled into his chest. "I was going to brew Amortentia, tell you what it smells like, and then get on my knees with a magically crafted gift and beg you to take me back."

"And what does that _illegal_ potion smell like to you, little witch?" Snape murmured, his arms closing around her.

"Old parchment," she replied, "peppermint mixed with potions ingredients, and that special hair tonic you use."

That was enough for him. He pulled her close and rested his head on hers, content in the way her tiny body tucked perfectly against his.

"You're certain?" When she nodded he let himself take a breath of her own special scent, vanilla and her specially brewed hair potion. "Because, witch, if you are thinking of leaving me again I can assure you I will not be a passive observer next time. I used up all my patience waiting for you to tell me your decision, and if you leave me in such uncertainty again I shall not restrain myself from kissing you into submission."

"I'd let you," Hermione chuckled, "but I'm sure, Severus Snape. I … I treated you terribly, leaving you like that, but I know better what I want now. I want you. Now, and in my future."

"Presumptuous little witch," Severus murmured, his breath now tickling her ear as he made her shiver in delight from his long-anticipated ministrations. "What are you picturing in that oversized brain of yours?"

She felt her face heat up in embarrassment and was glad her face was pressed into Severus' woolen frock coat. Her lack of a response made Severus smile.

"Tell me," he teased her ear with his breath. "What made you so eager to come back to me?"

Hermione could feel herself get red. She was not going to admit to such girly thoughts as she had used, but she wanted to. So instead she said, "I managed my Patronus."

"And your thoughts of me – that you are refusing to share, I see – helped with that feat?" he asked, pulling back to look at Hermione's red face. He chuckled at her embarrassment. "What is the form?"

She liked that question better and pulled out her wand. " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

This time the form didn't surprise her, but entranced her as she took in all the little details she couldn't see the first time. She could tell it was Aethonan rather than Abraxan or Granian because of the distinctive patch of white on the snout that showed her that, if coloured, it would be that signature chestnut brown winged horse. The hair on the horse was different than the regular horses, and she knew that was what made it distinctive to her – it was straight until it reached the very end, where the mane and tail ended in a curl, a nod to her own distinctive and curly head of hair. It approached her and Severus, focused entirely on her love, and then neighed.

"Remarkable," he murmured, his eyes fixed on it. "Do you know yet, how to share messages through it?"

"No."

He brought out his own wand. "Same movement, same feelings and desire. Then, with the incantation, _Expecto Patronum Praeco!_ "

This was the first time Hermione saw Severus' patronus, the raven that was produced from his wand tip. It circled her head once before she heard the words coming from the raven but in Severus' voice, " _Never leave me again._ "

She grinned up at the Potions master and threw her arms around his neck once more. "Never." They kissed again, and again, and again, and again … and she did it all. Not because of her magic, but because she had fallen in love with Severus Snape.


	27. Chapter 27

**Formerly Chapter 26, I actually just added a chapter. Man, it's a pain to do that. I had to re-post all the chapters in order and it replace the old ones and redo headings ... anyways, if you want to read the new chapter, it is chapter 15! I'll have Chapter 28 up, hopefully by tomorrow but it might just have to wait until next Saturday. Thanks for reading!**

Chapter 27

* * *

She was in the crafting room again for her nightly turn. Harry's frustrations during the day and anger over Umbridge seemed to seep into her magic and make her antsy, and she needed something to help him. She'd given him the DA, which helped on the days it was held, but the days in between were frustrating for Harry and, by extension, her. She needed a way for him to either blow off steam or calm him in the moment when her magic couldn't. Harry hadn't noticed yet the waves of magic she was sending over him during Potions class, but she needed a fix for him in Defense as well so he wouldn't notice.

Pulling open her jewellery crafting book – one of the few books from Dumbledore she hadn't memorized yet simply because it was already hard enough to forge a knife, let alone an intricate pendant or bracelet charm – she tried to find a solution. There were rings that would help cushion a fall that were used mostly for Aurors when they were flying but also for Quidditch players, or rings to deflect one specific type of curse or hex. Bracelets that enabled a higher control of wandless magic, but were hardly used because it still was more difficult than wandwork. There were various pieces of jewellery you could create to alert you if the person was in danger (bookmarked for later). One caught her eye – the bracelet was good for sleep, claiming to hold off nightmares. She would have dismissed it, but it came with a potions recipe she'd have to try regardless of the practical use when she gave it to Harry. She hoped he could use it to keep Voldemort out of his nights.

But none of them were what he needed right then. What he needed was something for during Umbridge's class, and probably when he was in his common room. She kept flipping through the pages, hoping to be hit by some sort of inspiration. She looked at the charms that could be inlayed in the metals, or the materials that had magical properties. Most of them were simply anti-theft measures or the realization of muggle charlatan charms for fertility or attraction.

She moved onto coating the pieces in potions. It was less reliable since a flaw in the smithing would mean the enchantments keeping it from erosion would fail. It needed to be very precisely forged if you were going to use the potion method, but the good news from using potions is that she could imbue it with the properties of a Draught of Peace, and at multiple points during the creating. Starting with immediately after finishing skimming, then, when finally forming the metal and using a Draught of Peace as a cooling bath. Finally, as a coating cemented on with the final bit of ritual magic performed on the item.

Deciding to at least try that one, she wanted to make Harry one of the few things she had actually managed to craft well with smithing, which was a ring. The draught of peace would react terribly with silver, and gold would be fine but would do nothing to enhance the potion she was imbuing it with. If she thought Dumbledore would get her some, she knew that platinum would be the best conductor of magic where silver failed.

Alchemy was her only solution. Sighing, she proceeded to look up the alchemic formula for the iron she had, determined to turn it to either gold or platinum. Few people could manage alchemy, but Dumbledore had given her the notebooks he and Nicholas Flamel had used for their studies specifically to save him from retrieving rare and expensive metals for her crafting. She had, when he told her that, insisted she would never expect him to do that and was even now chuckling that he knew her need for perfection so well. Of course she'd want the best components for her creations.

She first needed to purify the iron. She took two large rounds of iron, determined to make as much as she could so she wouldn't need to waste time in the future. She levitated the large stone smelting cauldron into the furnace's hearth and then added to the fire. She needed it high enough to separate the impurities from the base metal.

The process of purifying took a long time, during which she used the ritual circle the founders had placed in the room to prepare a pitcher of water for the actual alchemy, but she managed to get it done before two in the morning. To become platinum, now, would be intensely involved, as she could only convert a pound at a time.

Separating the first pound from the rest and keeping the rest in the hearth until she needed it, she began. Dumbledore and Flammel weren't too focused on rhodium, even with what Hermione knew of its interactions with Potions, and so she'd have to do a lot of it integrating processes for producing gold instead. What she needed was the perfect alchemic addition that would change the nature of iron. Iron was softer than rhodium but less magically condusive, so she needed … right. She took the pitcher of ritual water and placed it in front of her before using one of her knives to draw blood from her wrist. Exactly ten drops of blood, no less and no more. Sealing her wound with magic, she then imbued it with more of her magic.

The pound of iron was then lifted and drizzled over the water. She could see the change instantly, before it hit the bottom of the pitcher.

She levitated the tiny stones of metal and cast a diagnostic on the metal. She gasped. It wasn't platinum, like Dumbledore's notes implied it would be. It was better – rhodium. It was the most precious and the most conducive to magical resonance. It was ideal for Harry, but she had no idea why her blood and magic had changed it differently from Dumbledore's. Maybe it was a female thing?

She had finished changing the ten pounds to rhodium and proceeded to purifying this new metal and imbuing it with the Draught of Peace Severus kept in his storeroom.

Right in the middle of starting to form the ring, right around five in the morning, when her magic exploded from her violently, seemingly acting on its own. It pulled her through the castle in a whirl, faster than a shot from a gun. Severus was injured and close by. She needed to find him and get to him.

Before she could breathe or realize the implications of it, she'd rushed past the gates of Hogwarts and to the darkly clad figure struggling to crawl towards the school, a broken leg dragging behind him.

"Severus," she whispered as she appeared to materialize in front of him, taking her into his arms. "You're hurt."

"Astute," he grunted, pulling himself forward.

"Don't!" she exclaimed. "You need to heal."

She patted down her pockets to search for her wand before growling, remembering that it was still on the counter of the crafting room deep in the castle.

" I don't have my wand," she groaned. "Yours?"

"In my holster," Snape offered her his arm, as if he couldn't summon the wand from the few inches away it was from his hand. "It may … not be kind. Cypress and … unicorn hair, tends to hate anyone who touches it … but me."

She closed her hand over it and felt the cool power and reassuring steadiness and hope radiating from the piece of wood. It was lovely, and her magic caressed it like it was a part of Severus. In a way, it was. Like those months ago when Severus had first used her wand with no problems, his was completely compliant to her.

She didn't let him reply to the aura the wand sent out at her touch before she started casting the various charms at his body. She couldn't heal the bones, but the various cuts were sealed by her best she could and she splinted his arm and leg before rifling in her beaded bag for her dittany and a pain potion.

"What are you doing?" he growled, impatiently waiting to continue his trek. "Poppy … can handle this."

"Of course she can, but I can still heal you some before I levitate you to her door. The longer these are open the more they'll scar," Hermione chided, handing him the pain potion before turning to scrutinize the ill-healing bite on his shoulder she'd recovered the dittany for. "Drink. That's not a werewolf bite, is it?"

"It's not a full moon," he replied tensely before uncorking the bottle. Hermione couldn't help the grin that flickered to her face when he sniffed the potion, dabbed a bit on his tongue, and then swallow it in one gulp. It may not seem it, but it was a great credit to her that the pain potion she'd created that he drunk it at all. "Greyback was … very much human."

"But then - You're," Hermione had a hard time finding the words, "Why would he do that?"

Snape laughed, hard and cold and bitterly. "Greyback was being … rewarded for his success, and who better than the failure … half-blood to satiate him? Better me … than a pureblood child."

She didn't doubt the child had a name - both from the glint of hatred in Severus' eyes and the protective feelings radiating from him to her - but she didn't press. Instead, she searched in her leather satchel for silver powder and gauze, putting the dittany back. It wouldn't help with Greyback's bite. She needed to firmly pack the powder into his wound, but Severus didn't so much as flinch at the pressure. It made her heart pang to know he had suffered like this many times before. After she wrapped it up, she cast mobilicorpus on the stubborn man, earning his ire instantly.

"I'm not unconscious!" he growled stubbornly. "I have done this many times before, and I do not need your mollycoddling!"

Snape glared at her, but she knew that if he didn't have the strength to free himself from her restricting spell, he was in such a bad state he wouldn't really object to her helping him if it weren't for his pride. She rolled her eyes at his childish reticence and began the trek up to the castle, him floating steadily in front of her.

"You shouldn't be using that leg until we can get you to Madame Pomphrey," Hermione countered, "and I'm not letting you crawl your way to the school. I'm supposed to be helping you Severus, it's my job. Your pouting won't change it."

He glared at her. "I do not _pout_ , Miss Granger."

She just grinned at him, glad he no longer sounded so pained. His magic was still intense, going into overdrive to fix the injury she couldn't, but the desperate edge was gone.

"Glare all you want, Severus; I'm just so glad you're going to be alright," she murmured, gentler than she intended. Perking up her voice, she added, "Well, now you get the perks of lycanthropy without the horrific transformation. That's a plus, don't you think?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "This is not the first time Greyback has … bitten me, Miss Granger. For an adult … he finds that I taste … 'deliciously gamey'. He wouldn't have accepted the trade otherwise. It is … inconvenient, sometimes, … to have my feelings revolve … around the moon, or … to hear what you and your ilk … say no matter your distance across the great hall, but not a detriment. I'm the better for it."

Hermione gasped. " _That's_ why you hate people speaking during class?"

"I do not hate … the speaking, but what is ... said," he corrected, his eyes now closing involuntarily. He was obviously exhausted from his blood loss. "Hence why Slytherin … gets no points deducted … for the offense."

Hermione flushed. "I'm sorry for Ron and Harry, then. I know they have said some awful things about you over the years."

"Quite."

McGonagall met them at the doors to the Entrance Hall, garbed only in a nightgown and tartan blanket. "Miss Granger, is he alright?"

" _HE_ is still conscious, Madame," Snape drawled from his lying position, eyes still closed. "This miscreant is simply taking me to Poppy for further examination."

She tried not to smirk at the _miscreant_ endearment. He so rarely used it, it still warmed her heart a fair bit.

"I don't see why they do this to you, Severus, but it is unconscionable sending you back to that lunatic, time and time again," McGonagall sniffed, turning to Hermione as they hustled towards the infirmary. "How did you know he needed aid?"

Hermione hesitated. She'd always been close to McGonagall since her first week of school, when she approached her for help making friends. Since then, she'd often been to her office throughout the years, either asking for help with one thing or asking her about different wizarding customs she hadn't been raised with. So to keep her connection to Severus a secret from her …

"He is my Master, and he was injured," she shrugged. "I just knew."

The final turn of a corner and they were there. Poppy Pomphrey was already awake, motioning them to a bed. Severus was safe, for now. Yet even as Madame Pomphrey rebandaged his shoulder and healed his bones, all the while reassuring her that her Master would be fine by the end of the day, she couldn't shake it. The man who did this had returned from the dead, and she felt powerless to help. There had to be a way to keep Severus safe.

With that in mind, and with Severus knocked out by a sleeping draught by Madame Pomphrey, Hermione sat by his side and composed a letter to Mrs. Oswin.

 _My guide,_

 _Something has happened. The man my magic chose (no, I will not give you his name) has been hurt by You-Know-Who. He's alright now, but it was only when he was returned to Hogwarts grounds that I felt he was injured at all. The damage was already done by then. Is there any way to know, anytime, when your mate is in danger? Is there some way I can protect him from far away?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _H.J.G_

* * *

Since Severus was in the Hospital Wing, Hermione took over all his classes for the day. The first and second years hardly knew the difference, and the third and fourth years suspected their real teacher to be in his office or elsewhere so they didn't create a scene, as scared as they were of Professor Snape. It was the higher years who she wrestled with.

Malfoy kept the Slytherins mostly in line, as in line as he could, for the fifth year practical lesson. He'd subtly glare at them or slide them some sort of parchment. For the fifth year Slytherin/Gryffindor bunch, it was the Gryffindors who gave her grief.

"Hey, where's the git?" Ron called to the front of the class, eagerly looking around as the clock tower bellowed in the background.

" _Professor Snape_ , Ronald, is ill," she snapped at him. "Don't be disrespectful. I will be teaching the lesson today. Op-"

"Free day!" Seamus called, laughing. His call was echoed by her friends ad other who wanted to get out of work.

Hermione glared them down, hoping to channel her inner Snape. "Quiet! It is not a free day, and it is not a day to badmouth your Professor. Ten points from Gryffindor!"

"'Mione-" Harry tried.

She cut him off. "No. I have great respect for Professor Snape, and I also respect the subject he teaches. Far too much to allow you all to squander the education he's been trying to pound into you for the past four years.

"Now," she breathed deeply, trying to ignore her rising anger, "for the past week we have gone over the theory of Strengthening Solutions, their ingredients and proper brewing instructions; you should be excited that today we're finally brewing the base for such an advanced potion. Now, open your books to the recipe and set up your stations." They seemed wary of obeying her. "Now!"

They rushed to obey her the same way they did when Snape was angry in class. Malfoy gave her a brief smirk of approval before he, too, started to set up.

She needed to take away points from multiple houses before the end of the day, but Gryffindor was by far the most behind after Hermione's classes. Slytherins lost points for mocking her, but without Severus, the others all felt they could badmouth him. She decided to take five points every time someone was in her class and disrespected him or her, and by the end of the day Hufflepuff had lost ten points, Slytherin thirty, Ravenclaw fifty, Gryffindor's four classes had lost a whopping eighty points. Very few of those points were earned back by correct potions or answer, but those that were were definitely not earned by Gryffindor. Two seventh-year Gryffindors were so rude to her for trying to teach them to make Amortentia that she'd been forced to assign her first detentions.

Hermione used her time-turner the second classes were over to go back to the beginning of the day and sit by Severus the whole time, not letting him out of her sight. Poppy had him sedated because of his tendency to teach classes even when he's not fully recovered. By midday, Severus was peeking out from under his eyelids to see if the sneaky Mediwitch who'd spiked his morning tea was anywhere in sight, only to find her there with a wicked grin.

"Expecting another witch at your bedside?" she teased, internally relieved to see him awake. "She was just here. Want me to fetch her?"

"Do that and you'll spend the night hanging kelpie hair to dry," Snape murmured, no less menacing than at full volume. He propped himself up at his elbow, a little shaky. "However, if you would help me get out of here so I can pester the dunderheads in my class, we may spend tonight in more … pleasurable pursuits."

Hermione chuckled and bent in for a kiss, brushing her lips gently against his. "I've taken your classes for today, you ridiculous man. And since you didn't show up before I turned, I already know that I win this argument. You're recovering."

"I _am_ recovered," Snape growled, lacking his usual venom. Still, he returned her light, brushing kiss and made it just that bit more fierce that showed her his longing. "Perhaps I should show you just how recovered I am."

That earned another chuckle, but instead of replying to his flirtations, she called out, a bit too loudly, "Madame Pomphrey!"

"Coming dear!"

Snape glared at her, though the corner of his lips turned up in a smirk. "Grave mistake, Apprentice."

"Oh, hush you," Madame Pomphrey fluttered around the corner with disapproving look at her patient. The elderly matron deposited a set of vials on the bedside table of the Potions Master and straightened the sheets of the grumpy man, not heeding his growls of protest. "I said hush, young man. I need to make sure the bones set properly and don't need to be regrown. Miss Granger has reassured me that your classes are being taken care of, and you still have residue of dark magic in your nerves to make you unsteady for a day or two. Just lie down and let me work!"

Snape grumbled about being functional and no worse than he's been before, but Madame Pomphrey ignored him and started scanning the limbs that had been broken before. After assuring herself that the bones had set properly, Poppy focused on removing the gauze on his neck while Severus gave Hermione his most long-suffering expression. Hermione suppressed a giggle, taking on a serious face when the matron looked over to her.

Her giggles died when she saw the open gash on Severus' shoulder. She was better with blood after her summer with Moody, but seeing the huge piece of flesh missing from her mate's shoulder made her throat dry and magic flare and encircle him protectively. It was better than last night, but the fact that he was clearly still in pain when Madame Pomphrey cleaned the silver powder out of it did nothing to help the ache she felt at the sight.

"I'm going to kill them," Hermione glared at the wound as if it was a personal offense. To her, it was. "Greyback first. Voldemort next."

Snape looked at her, slightly shocked by the dark gleam he saw in her eyes. He was reluctant to admit he found her possessive feelings extremely attractive, and especially the slight darkness she showed in defending him. Still, he wanted to deter her from seeking her vengeance on two very powerful, very dangerous men. "I believe I've earned the first strike, don't you agree?"

Hermione nodded, but he could see her planning her vengeance in her head and quickly diverted her. "So, if I'm not permitted to make my students cry, what do you propose I do with my day?"

"Severus Snape, you are not to exert yourself!" Poppy ordered, passing him a second potion. "I know you will not stay and so I will release you, but you will keep off your feet and make sure to eat. And if you start shaking-"

"I could start seizing, and so I must rest immediately and bring someone to my side," Severus said monotonously. "I'm aware, Poppy."

"Then don't let me find out you've suffered alone in your private lab again, you silly boy," Poppy sighed. She turned to Hermione. "Can you stay with him the remainder of the day?"

"Of course," Hermione grinned at the indignation on Severus' face. "I will baby him within an inch of his life."

"And earn yourself detention duty from now until Christmas," Severus said with a half-hearted glare.

Hermione laughed. "Only a month? You're going soft, _Master_." Then, turning to Poppy, she asked the elderly mediwitch, "Can I take him now?"

Poppy rolled her eyes but nodded. She discharged Severus and gave him to Hermione, warning her to keep him off his feet as much as possible and to not let the students harass him for the rest of the day. Hermione agreed and brought Severus with her to the dungeons on the south side of the castle, far away from the Potions classroom and the place where her crafting took place. He'd never actually seen her work, and since she needed to finish Harry's ring …

Severus took a look at the crafting room and gave her a stern look. "And what is this?"

"Dumbledore gave me access," she told him, setting him on the lightly padded rocking chair in the corner. It was a piece clearly enchanted with something, thought she hadn't figured out what yet. "It's a smithing room. I'm making something to help Harry, and I was nearly finished when I felt you come through the wards last night. I have books, if you like, to keep you occupied for the next hour or so until I finish."

Severus looked at the material on the workbench, just as she'd left it last night, and indicated the book on the table. "Show me what it is you've been doing."

"Really?"

She excitedly showed him the methodology prescribed in the book for infusing metal-crafted items with potions, then showed him the specifications entailed for using it with emotion-based potions. She then worked on the ring, showing Severus the variety of spells the book had taught her for crafting the gift.

"Rhodium?" Severus asked, his eyes pensive. "There's no way the old man procured the rare metal for you. Where did you get it?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Alchemy."

Snape looked at her with appraising eyes. "You do realize alchemy is a rarely studied and even more rarely mastered art? How did you manage it?"

She would have shown him in a heartbeat the notebooks from Flammel, but Dumbledore had insisted she keep it to herself. She simply said, "I was going for platinum. It's less advanced."

"And how did you learn the rare art?"

"Dumbledore," she sighed.

"Ah," Severus murmured, understanding. "You do realize that the Goblins would like nothing more than to have your power for their own? They have the best metalsmiths in the world, but their resources are limited to the goblin-owned mines."

"I'd love to learn from them," Hermione shrugged. "There are no books on the different magics of _beings_ ," she said the word with intended malice for the classification, "and no record of the Goblin wars mentions them using it in combat. There's even less on their smithing, because it's the only thing that protected them from wizards. To be able to make their weapons and armour for the war … But it's not as important as other things right now, is it?"

"Actually. . ." Severus looked her up and down, considering. "Bill Weasley has been tasked with trying to get the Gringotts goblins on our side for one reason or another, but as a simple curse-breaker he cannot penetrate the clan-based politics or their base operations in trade. Perhaps, rather than a direct attempt at Gringotts, we can begin with their secretive smiths."

Hermione looked at the pensive, hesitant look on Severus' face. "If it could be useful, why hasn't Dumbledore mentioned it?"

Snape looked at her cautiously. "Because you are my apprentice, under contract, and anything I allow you to do will be reported to my master. If, however, I can convince the Dark Lord that you are working on something for the Headmaster that he has not confided in you, I may be able to convince him to allow it with the chance of learning more about Dumbledore's war efforts. It would be difficult to craft the lie with the appropriate memories … This is moot, however, should the Headmaster disagree."

Hermione sighed, but nodded. "And I'd have to leave you."

"No," his abrupt answer shocked her. "At most, we'd loan you to the goblins for one or two days a week. I'd never be allowed to end our contract, on either master's orders, and I will not regardless."

The unspoken implication that he would not let her go was enough to bring a shiver to her spine and a blush to her cheeks. She turned away, focusing her hormonal energy on finishing Harry's ring.

"Do you remember if the Potter's had a crest or anything?" Hermione asked after a moment of silent contemplation. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, I mean we haven't talked about his parents since the start of term, but … It's really important he wear this ring. Especially for Umbridge. So, er, did they? I mean, I found the Peverell crest, but it probably wasn't the same as the Potters. Or was it?"

"Hoping to induce Potter to wear it without insult, Miss Granger?" Severus asked, a glint in his eyes. "How very Slytherin."

Hermione flushed. "Well, I mean … Harry, he, er, I probably'll get yelled at if I tell him he needs to calm down, and I don't think it's an entirely normal anger he's having, what with his connection to Vol- er, The Dark Lord, so, er, it might be better …"

"If you could lie and tell Potter you'd found something of his family," he finished for her bluntly.

Hermione gaped. "No! I mean, not _lie_ , not exactly. I'd like to have something else to keep him calm besides the potion, and if it reminds him of his parents –"

Snape waved off her explanations. "As a matter of fact, though the Potters were purebloods recognized by most of the magical communities, they never derived from any sort of nobility and as such do not have a crest. I would use the Peverell crest. But, may I make a suggestion?"

"It's what you're here for," Hermione teased.

That earned a twitch of a smile on his lips. "If you want to make it something for Potter to wear as a reminder of his family roots, perhaps it would be wise to make it a symbol to others of those same roots. Pureblooded families have signet rings given to the head of household upon the previous heir's death. If the other purebloods in the school saw potter with a Peverell-crested signet ring …"

He left it hanging, but the implication was clear. The pureblooded families recognized being an heir to an ancient name as significant, and that subtle reminder of Harry's heritage might be enough to cause them to reconsider the true values lying behind Voldemort's cause.

That finally gave her and idea of what form the ring was taking in her mind, and it came together quickly after that. The Peverell family crest derived from the noble European family of Peverell, but the crest was slightly altered to include wands as the embellishments along the sides. She was going to engrave it with her wand since she wasn't that good at art in the first place, let alone good enough to engrave it into the tough metal of the ring. But Severus laughed at her and took the ring from her. His steady hands moved over the metal with a practised ease, using the magical tools Dumbledore had given her to etch the design into its hard face. He was entrancing when he worked.

"Magic would undermine the effectiveness of the Draught of Peace," he told her as he etched the initial design for the crest. "I will take care of this."

"Are you good at everything?" she wondered aloud, blushing when his dark gaze fell over her. "I mean, potions, Occlumency, defense against the dark arts, and now engraving …"

"I could ask you the same," he murmured, his voice low and eyes piercing. "The girl who doesn't sleep, who mastered Occlumency younger than I, a craftsman, trained by a curse-breaker and an auror, and more powerful than an normal witch. Tell me, what can't the famous Hermione Granger, link witch and brains of the golden trio, do if she sets her mind to it?"

His gaze was so intense and yet so admiring and gentle that Hermione was speechless for a long moment. She giggled, something she never normally did, and then coughed to try and mitigate the flow of the girlish noise.

Then, with the tension broken by her snivelling Lavender-esque noise, she averted her eyes from his face and smiled. "Draw, obviously. Or paint. Or etch. Anything artistic, really."

"Well, I can make up for that," Severus said with a smirk. "Luckily, in pureblood circles, it is still traditional to portray some measure of talent for something artistic when wooing a lady. I have taken to artistry."

"Hmmm," Hermione murmured, thinking of something sneaky. "Then you're showing off your skills to woo me, are you?"

Severus inhaled in shock at her words, but didn't deny them. He merely cast his dark gaze over her, lingering over her face, before turning those black eyes back to his work.

Hermione felt like her soul was heated at his gaze. "Why haven't I seen any sketches in your office or workroom?"

"I don't sketch," he said, focused once again on the signet ring for Harry. "It is the sign of a disorganized mind when inspiration needs to be executed immediately instead of saved for later. The only sketches I make are underneath my paintings. Not that I paint often. I prefer calligraphy. Woo with words both beautiful and profound, and no heart worth wooing can resist."

"So, where are the paintings?"

Snape sighed. "They are in my personal chambers, as are my paints. No, I will not permit you to enter there."

Hermione grinned shyly. "Am I that obvious?"

"To anyone who knows of your curious nature, it was the obvious conclusion," Snape murmured, intent on a complicated pattern for the signet. "You, however, are not as obvious as your curiousity. You often surprise me."

His words were enough to cause Hermione to blush. The mood was content, his magics healthy once more, and now that he wasn't in mortal peril the desire to take him for a mate had returned. He was quite an attractive, powerful wizard. And he was obviously attracted to her.

"You surprise more than I do," Hermione told him, teasing. "If I told them I'd made you smile some might die of shock."

They laughed together, taking this quiet moment together for all it was worth. Hermione was happy, and Severus felt more alive than he had in twenty long years.

* * *

After she brought Severus to his quarters for the night, letting him enter on his own for privacy's sake, she went to Dumbledore's office. From her conversation with Severus, he wanted in with the Goblins for something more important than Bill keeping his job. Goblins were ruthless, and no friend of wizardkind, and to pry into their little understood social politics would be an affront to their hospitality and goodwill for taking him into their employ.

If she could give him a reprieve from his task, she would.

"Ah, Miss Granger," he welcomed her to his office with a wave of his hand. His palace of knickknacks wasoppulent in a way that only a true eccentric could appreciate. "What do I owe the pleasure of you fine company this evening?"

"Sev-Professor Snape mentioned you wanted an in with the Goblins," she said, mentally cursing herself for the slip. To anyone but Dumbledore it would be a mistake Severus couldn't afford. "Why didn't you tell me? They'd love to have a witch who could use alchemy like you."

Dumbledore sighed and sat in his Headmaster's chair. "I do not want the goblins to be versed in the magic of alchemy," he told her. "They do not have many powers with their magic, but they have a great understanding of the elements. Much like yourself. They might just be powerful enough to use the alchemic process themselves. It would not do to use our sole thing of value in placing one we could not leave with them."

"I wouldn't even have to show them, just turn some of their minerals into precious metals," Hermione insisted. "They value their riches. I'm sure that whatever you want could be traded for a few days a week of my help. Of course, I'll return your journals after I've done."

"It is not that, my dear. Those notes hold only sadness and memories for me, and I'm glad I could pass them on to someone who appreciates them. They are yours," he stroked his beard in contemplation. "It is the goblins who are, well, complicated. What I want would go against the principles the Gringotts goblins hold most dear, and so they would only break it for one of their own. A bond with a goblin supersedes any of their obligations to wizards."

"So … I would need to befriend them? Find a goblin to help us?" Hermione said slowly, trying to understand what he needed the most. He shook his head. "Then … what?"

"We'd need them to adopt you into the Gringotts clan," he said. "I cannot trust anyone outside the Order – even some in the Order – with the knowledge of what I need. I would need someone I trusted explicitly to retrieve what I'm after."

Hermione nodded, but her mind was lost. "How … how would that be managed? Do they even adopt, in our sense of the word? What-what would compel them?"

"A powerful witch with the knowledge and inclination for alchemy, orphaned in the eyes of the Ministry with your sole guardian as your temporary Master..." he sighed, his eyes sad as he looked at her. "Goblins do everything they can to accumulate money. If you were to show them a desire to belong, to have a family you could go to after your apprenticeship with Severus ended, I'm sure they would offer it to you with open arms. The question is whether you could be part of that family for the rest of your life, or face their contempt if you drew away later. Bill cares for the goblins, enjoys their company. He would be ideal to place with them."

"Are you saying I couldn't feel the same once I meet them?" Hermione asked harshly. "I'm sure goblins are very good to their family. Of course they don't like wizards after all the wars they've fought with us, but that doesn't mean they're incapable of affection."

Dumbledore raised his hands in surrender, his eyes now twinkling brightly. "I meant no offense, my dear. Merely ascertaining whether or not you still felt the need to campaign for the for those underrepresented by wizarding society. I see you have not outgrown that habit in your maturation."

Hermione had the good sense to appear appropriately ashamed. "Tell me the elves don't hold it against me."

"They found you terrifying in your single-mindedness, but cute in your attempts," he reassured her with a twinkle. "You brought young Dobby too much happiness for them to hold it against you."

They shared an understanding look that spoke volumes for the warmth they both felt for the elves and their precocious natures. Then, the veil of darkness passed over Dumbledore's gaze. He looked sad, now, as he looked on her.

"You would not be opposed, then, to the task?" he said gravely. "I do not know what the goblins will do when I offer your services, but I cannot take back words that will change how they view you."

She nodded. "Just … please, please, tell me you'll make sure he doesn't punish Professor Snape for what I'm doing."

"It will actually be a great benefit to him," he promised. "To have you more engrossed in my plans with give Tom what he believes is a chance to find out my preparations. Severus will tell Tom nothing of alchemy, but only that I am lending you to the goblins in the hopes of winning their support for the upcoming conflict. If we're lucky, he will then try to do the same, but it will make no difference; you will be doing your part and I'm sure you will succeed."

* * *

 ** _Hermione can't draw, Hermione can't draw!_** **Ah, the Very Potter musical love. I needed to do that. I'm really happy with the reaction I'm getting with this story. I wish I could go back and change a few things, remove a few things, but I'm really pleased with this chapter and this new direction I'm taking. Hope you all enjoy the different things to come!**

 **Anywho ... Review! Review!**


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

* * *

Dumbledore heard back from the Gringotts goblins the day Hermione heard back from Mrs. Oswin.

At breakfast, Umbridge had another two or three utterly asinine declarations read out before the entire assembled school. At the same time, however, the completely wizard-offensive goblin hawk swooped in from the automatically opening owl entrance to interrupt her. It swooped around the room as if it was the most important thin there, ignoring Umbridge's calls to order, before finally landing on Dumbeldore's golden headmaster's chair with a dramatic flare, his claw and its attached parchment extended to the old man.

"Forgive me, Dolores, but it seems I have a bit of post," Dumbledore said benignly, twinkling at the red-faced witch. "Do continue, but I'm afraid, I must take this up in my office. Apprentice Granger, I'd hate to interrupt your breakfast, but if you would. . ?"

Hermione loved the hateful face of Professor Umbridge ad gleefully followed after the headaster with hardly a parting, "Enjoy your morning, Professor," that only made the witch even angrier.

Apparently the goblins had been after Flammel for years after he announced he'd created the philosopher's stone, and were extremely eager to see an apprentice of his (as Dumbledore had introduced her). Hermione had protested the label, claiming it a lie, but Dumbledore wanted nothing more than for her to carry on the Flammel legacy and reassured her she was being apprenticed by him, I'll-be-it not formally.

The goblins wanted her price for her work, and Dumbledore had told them it was to tutor her in the goblin smithing she'd been curious about. This would endear her to the goblins, he promised, and make it seem a more intellectual than business-based endeavour on her part. With the promise that the goblins would allow her privacy in the process she used, they sent an agreement to their conditions and a promise that she would come to Gringotts with her master at her earliest convenience.

"My earliest convenience?" she asked, hesitantly. "I've never known goblins to jump through social niceties to get what they want. They all seem so … blunt."

"It's their way of bowing to us," Dumbledore reassured her. "We have something they want, and we're receiving very little in return. They believe they need to tread carefully in order to keep it. Severus and yourself will go on Friday to finalize the plans, just after the last class of the day."

In his office, though, Dumbledore gave her another piece of parchment that bore all the signs of being thrown through a fireplace. It was a letter from Mrs. Oswin.

 _Dear Miss Granger,_

 _Whenever your bond-mate is hurt, you will know no matter the distance. The only reason it would have failed you is if you had not finalized (consummated, you sweet girl) your bond. It may seem a daunting prospect, considering our feeling on the compulsion of your magic, but I'm genuinely surprised you've managed to resist him for so long. Well done! It shows remarkable strength of will on your part not to do so._

 _If, however, you feel like your bondmate is regularly putting himself in danger, I would caution against consummation. I'm sure you found yourself incapable of remaining away from your injured bondmate, and you would only be brought into the danger he associates with._

 _Take care, child, in your choices going forward._

 _Yours,_

 _Mrs. Oswin_

"No alias," she murmured.

"I would imagine she felt confident enough with her anonymity if I am the messenger," Dumbledore told her kindly. "She said it was an important missive. Is everything alright, Miss Granger?"

She stuffed the parchment in the satchel quickly, blushing at the idea of sharing _that_ with the elderly headmaster. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. When are we meeting next?"

* * *

Hermione brought Harry's gift with her for classes, but she didn't think she'd have a chance to give it to him. She couldn't explain why she felt so adamant about him needing it – it went against what she'd protested in her relationship with Snape, her free will over her emotions, but she just needed to help Harry control his. When she came to him and he was angry, it was like a dark cloud had come over his magic like nothing she'd ever seen before. She just had no idea what it was.

So, if she couldn't give it to him before Potions class, she'd wait until later and go find Harry and Ron in the Gryffindor common room, she was sure, and give it to them then. Still, it gave her comfort whenever she touched it and she loved having it nearby.

The problem, though, was that Harry was still as violently temperamental as he had been all year since she hadn't given it to him yet. Still, in class he normally was just mildly annoyed or her would just look to her for help and she'd give a slight nod or shake and he'd go back to being content.

Today, Umbridge joined their class for inspections.

Harry came through the door the full half-hour early, as they'd gotten in the habit of doing before their Tuesday classes, and engaged her happily. When Severus entered the room with ingredients, they'd switch their topic to the potion they were brewing – Strengthening Solution, today – and then back when he left. She knew that Severus could hear them regardless, but she thought it was a good practise of respect for the boys.

Ten minutes before the start of class, however, the pink profiterole knocked on the open door, grinning wickedly at Hermione from her place at the door. Knowing what was coming, she shot up and moved towards the door, making the motion for Umbridge to enter so she could greet her formally.

"Good afternoon, High Inquisitor," Hermione said with false sincerity. "How can me or my Master assist you today?"

"I'm here for an inspection, Miss- oh, excuse me- _Apprentice_ Granger," she corrected with overt sweetness. "I must say, it is not very professional for a staff member to be gossiping with her friends before class. Does your Master know?"

Hermione gave her a false smile, but before she could respond, her magic haywire violently. Harry, who a moment earlier had been happy and calm, was now overcome with dark energy that shot right through her as painfully as Dumbledore's wand. She stumbled slightly, trying to adjust to the feeling. It was as if Harry was being possessed.

Severus, however, had entered, saving her from facing Madame High Inquisitor Umbridge's questions regarding her trembling form.

He swept up to the front of the class, eyes fixed on the woman before her.

"I do indeed know of my Apprentices action, Madame. Apologies for not greeting you myself, Madame," he bowed low and took her extended hand, bestowing a light and proper kiss in greeting. "I'll have you know, I prohibit gossip during the school hours. However, should Messers Potter and Weasley feel inclined to spend their lunch break seeking extra help for their dismal performance in my class, I feel no reason for my Apprentice to refuse while my time was better spent in less … hopeless causes, don't you? My apprentice is merely relieving me of essential duties I deem tedious and repetitive."

Professor Umbridge tittered over the kiss to her hand and allowed Professor Snape to walk her to the front of the class as he defended Hermione, who was still slightly hunched and breathing slightly quicker at her new realization. Harry … possessed. Somehow. It made all sorts of sense. The connection with Voldemort, the nightmares, the mood swings, his darker magic this year … he was somehow, someway, possessed. His darker emotions clearly unlocked whatever it was, and Umbridge of course would be the catalyst. How had she failed to notice it earlier in the year?

The answer was obvious – she hadn't been in any of his Defense classes. The only times Harry was angry was when it came to Severus and Umbridge, and Hermione's presence in potions obviously had helped to temper his reaction to the dour potions master. But Umbridge …

Suddenly, she was putting pieces together. She hadn't thought about when she woke up form being petrified, but she'd never encountered any dark objects in her studies with Alastor Moody that allowed for possession. And Dumbledore hadn't informed the Wizegamot about the source of the problem at the school, only referencing Voldemort and an untended Basilisk, not Ginny. Possession itself had no texts in the library or its restricted section, meaning it had to be something specific to Voldemort. Something about the diary that year was so dark that Dumbledore didn't feel safe sharing it with anyone who could understand, only two twelve-year old boys and their friend.

Voldemort had some sort of power, some untold Dark Magic that allowed him the power of possession. But if it was that, how did it affect Ginny in his younger form, prior to his official return? Her mind was moving a thousand miles an hour, terrified at the implications of what was right in front of her. If the two really were connected . . . It had little to do with possession, and everything to do with immortality.

Harry was brought back to a less than human state through Harry's blood, meaning he came back from the dead through Harry. But somehow, the diary allowed the same. Him, as a younger man, immortal through his own diary and therefore capable of possessing Ginny and coming back in a similar fashion. And Dumbledore knew how it all was happening.

"…the first attempt, Miss Granger will be assisting them where needed. Miss Granger?" Severus' voice called her out of her shock of discovery. "Miss Granger?!"

"Sorry, Master," she murmured, "I … I think I'm unwell."

She thrust her hand into her satchel and grabbed Harry's signet, letting the Draught of Peace infusion do its job and calm her down, slow her mind. It allowed her to look up at Severus' concerned face and Umbridge's delighted one, although she could still feel how vacant she must look to his gaze. Without her mind running twenty miles an hour, she could think in steps. First, she needed to get Harry to calm down by giving him the signet ring. Second, she needed to ask Dumbledore about this. He knew, she was certain of it, and he would tell her.

"Is it a cold? We have plenty of second-year Pepper-Up potion you could test," Snape sneered, but only for Umbridge's benefit, she knew. Still, the darkness in Harry flared and kicked her in the gut again at his comment. She gasped involuntarily. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione connected her eyes with his, staring so intently she knew Severus would see the invitation there. She thought firmly, decisively, _I need to go see Dumbledore, I need to go see Dumbledore, I need to go see Dumbledore._ He would assume it was for the Goblin mission he'd assigned her, but it was the best she could do with Umbridge there.

She saw Severus nod, letting her know he'd heard her.

"I … I know Madame Pomphrey has some pain potion, sir," Hermione said, as if that would be an explanation Umbridge could get behind. "I'll hopefully be back before class begins."

Severus leveled a glare for Umbridge's benefit. "You present a poor showing for our High Inquisitor, Apprentice. May I assume you are dying?"

Hermione nodded, her only response.

"Do not make it a habit."

Umbridge feigned concern. "Oh, poor girl. I remember girls that thin in my year, such frail constitutions you know, Professor Snape, you really must pity the poor girl."

With Severus' nod, she didn't stay for the rest of it. She went to Harry and put the signet ring on his desk. "I forgot to give you this back, Harry. I don't think you should take it off if you keep forgetting where you left it."

Harry looked shocked, but took her subtle hint and slipped the ring on his index finger before Hermione ran from the room, barreling straight to the Headmaster's office at top speeds. She passed Professor McGonagall, clearly a little late leaving for her post-lunch class, without a single thought as to what her teacher would think. "Miss Granger?"

Students gaped at her showing panic, not used to seeing Hermione so bent out of shape until exam time, but she couldn't care less. She reached the griffin and said, "Fizzing Wizbees," so quickly the gargoyle surely couldn't have heard the words clearly. It still jumped out of the way as she jumped two stairs at a time to get to the Headmaster.

She didn't knock, she just burst through the door to see Professor Dumbledore hunched over his desk, the wooden surface covered in parchment and his furiously scribbling all over, and didn't even think before her accusation left her lips. "You know what's wrong with Harry."

Dumbledore didn't seem shocked at her words, but the twinkle he had adopted upon seeing her died. He laid down his quill and used his hand to banish the parchments to the shelves behind him. "Good afternoon, Miss Granger. Lemon drop?"

Dumbfounded by his complete disregard for her accusation, she had no words.

"No?" Dumbledore lowered his offering hand and folded it on top of his desk. "Then, please, come, sit, and tell me what led you to that conclusion."

"I-I," Hermione stuttered before regaining her composure. "No! No, I know what you're doing, Headmaster, and I'm not letting you unbalance me. Umbridge is in the Potions classroom right now, and Harry's magic feels as if its been possessed! You know what I'm talking about, don't you, sir?"

"Explain it as though I don't, Miss Granger," he asked, politely as ever.

Hermione nodded, although she felt she was giving the elderly man the upper hand. "Ginny, her first year. Tom Riddle's diary. Somehow, it connects with Harry. She was possessed by Voldemort, and it nearly brought him back from the dead. Harry now has this connection with Voldemort, and his blood was used to bring Voldemort back too. I don't know what the diary was, but you didn't tell the Ministry about it and even my studies with Moody didn't cover any objects that could possess a wizard. You know what that diary is, and you know what's going on with Harry. Tell me."

There was a frown on Dumbledore's face that told her he did not want to tell her. That there was reason, no matter how foolish, for him keeping it from her.

"Sir, I'm good at keeping secrets. You know you can trust me, you said as much when you agreed to send me to the goblins." Dumbledore hesitated, so she pushed. "I can't help Harry if I don't know what is wrong with him."

Dumbledore looked at her as if assessing her sincerity. Then, he nodded.

"I will tell you a little bit about what you have accurately guessed Miss Granger. This may take some time. Please, sit."

Hermione acquiesced finally. She sat herself in the padded chair and folded her arms across her chest, waiting.

"Tom has a series of objects he's accrued over the years that he can use as a conduit of his power," Dumbledore said. "The diary was one such object. These are objects that were, prior to being enchanted, were of great value to the wizard before enchanted at great personal cost. I am, as of yet, not entirely sure how many he has created, but I do know they must destroyed if we have any chance of defeating Tom."

He explained why he'd kept this a secret, particularly why he didn't tell Harry; Dumbledore was worried that Harry would feel more pressure on top of his course-load and dealing with the dreams from Voldemort. He didn't want to worry her friend until he knew where the objects were, or how many he'd even made. He also told her what he'd done about Ginny those three years ago – after tending to her personally, he'd found all traces of Dark Magic had been taken out by the diary and only ghosts remained. Ginny, evidently, had been receiving private tuition from Dumbledore on basic Occlumency and meditation. Her exposure had actually strengthened her mind beyond normal parameters and she was becoming a strong young lady … at lease, Dumbledore thought so.

"I have found the location of another of these objects," Dumbledore finally told her, "but it is within a Gringotts vault of one of his most devout followers."

"So that's where the goblins come into play," Hermione finally pieced together. "They won't let another wizard into someone else's vault – not even the Ministry can access them to punish Death Eaters, let alone someone on a vigilante mission – so you need a goblin proxy."

"Exactly, Miss Granger," Dumbledore nodded sagely. "It is not something that can be done, not unless we break into Gringotts, or we have goblin family to turn to. I prefer the more diplomatic route, myself. No sense in giving the goblins a reason to close the Dumbledore accounts, is there?"

"Goblins do hold supreme economic power," she observed. "So, in short, Voldemort has a series of valuable – or at least, to him valuable – objects that he uses to ensure his immortality. You're not going to tell me how or why, or what Harry is in the mix of things, but they need to be destroyed before we face him or he won't be killed. Correct?"

He nodded.

"But we don't know how many, what they are, or even where?" she continued, brow furrowing. Again, Dumbledore nodded. "How are we supposed to do this, then? We can't just go around destroying objects and hoping that one of them is… whatever they are! How are we going to figure out how many there are? Can we even detect them with magic?"

"Ah," Dumbledore sounded, nodding at her assumption, "you are, as ever, correct. Normal magic cannot detect them, and even certain spells can only determine the objects value when cast directly on it. They are not trackable. However, I do believe we've just found a way to do so."

Dumbledore looked at her over his half-moon glasses, willing her to understand. Hermione scattered brain took a few moments, before … "Oh! You think I can feel them? Like with Harry?"

Dumbledore smiled now, relieved. "Yes, my dear. I believe that if you can remember, memorize the magical signature that young Harry was overcome by, you may be able to recognize it in other things. Do you feel like you could remember that magical signature enough to find it in a room?"

"Absolutely," Hermione nodded, remembering how dark it felt. "I just need to remember. I have a bad habit of bottling up my magic, you see. If I can remember to keep it extended, searching, I would be able to find them."

"It is of utmost importance that you do," Dumbledore warned her gravely. "I am certain that one such object is at Hogwarts. I have checked Tom's special award for services to the school, his honour plaque, and various items in the Slytherin common rooms and Head Boy chambers but to no avail. I did not expect him to leave it so open for my scrutiny, of course, but I'm at a loss. If you could search the school for me, either on patrols or in your own time, I would be exceptionally grateful."

Hermione nodded, feeling that extra bit of weight on her shoulders as her new task settled in. She needed to defend Harry, keep learning everything about Defense against the Dark Arts so she was prepared for anything he faced, find the objects that ensured Voldemort's immortality, maintain her relationship with Severus, keep helping Harry run the DA while Umbridge tried to catch him, help the Slytherins and earn her Mastery. Suddenly, she was well aware of how Harry felt trying to help everyone.

Luckily she didn't need sleep anymore, or she'd pass out.

"Then we can't waste any time," Hermione said decisively. "If these objects are so important, we need to accept the Goblins invitation for today instead of Friday, and we'll loan me to them three days instead of two so they feel our commitment. I'll use the time-turner to avoid Umbridge's suspicions."

"They would reject your offer without your Master present," Dumbledore dismissed out of hand. Then, after a thought, he pulled out a parchment. "Unless, of course, I gave you a letter detailing my need for Severus and his desire to see you improve your skills. My word should at least allow for a contract to be sent back to Severus after your initial meeting."

"And in return for my help, I'm asking ..?" Hermione probed.

Dumbledore smiled at her. "We hope they are willing to teach you how to smith the metals you're providing them – it is a skill reserved only for the goblins, and so they'll be more inclined to bring you into the Gringotts clan once it's mastered. However, if not, we will renegotiate for monetary compensation. The point is to get you through the door. Now, are you sure you want to do this today? I will be unable to leave the school tonight to get you, so you will need to stay at Headquarters until I can retrieve you tomorrow morning."

"I'll get the alchemy journals to take with me," Hermione jumped up excitedly. But, before leaving, she turned back to him hesitantly. "Sir, when I tried Flammel's formula for platinum, it turned the iron into rhodium instead. Is that … does that happen sometimes? Like a rare occurrence? Or am I doing something wrong?"

Dumbledore looked up from the parchment with a assessing look. "This was his use of blessed water and the blood of the caster variation, correct?"

She nodded.

"We saw some variation between the types of blood used in the formula," Dumbledore told her. "Ethnicities, pureblood as opposed to halfblood or muggleborn … virgin."

At his insinuation, Hermione blushed. "Ah. Well, that must be it. But how do I make platinum then?"

"It depends," he brushed his quill across his nose, prompting a humorous sneeze. "Precious metals are in a category all on their own for alchemy, and are often changed with the power used in the incantations and ingredients. The more sympathetic the metal to magic, the more power it takes to change into. Try the other rituals and record your results; I'd be fascinated to read them.

"For platinum, though, I'd try the next ritual down, the one for gold, I believe? And then so on and so forth. It may yield some unusual results, but the goblins know you're practising the art with them as well. They will make allowances for mistakes. You will, of course, be giving them something more valuable than what you began with regardless."

Hermione nodded and went to go collect the books, eager to test Dumbledore's theory. She might not get the chance with the goblins, but with a turn back at the end of the day she'd be able to try it in the crafting room.

* * *

Severus Snape knew that whatever Hermione was doing in the Headmaster's office was to do with her magic. The sudden, painful inhalations were similar to those she'd experienced receiving the Order's mark at the beginning of the summer. Knowing that, and knowing where she was, did not alleviate his concern for her. She was clearly in pain, and there was nothing he could do about it with the toad present.

Speaking of toads, Severus felt more than annoyed at the new DADA instructor as the class went on. Her presence had prevented him from cancelling classes and aiding Hermione, and now she was bending over cauldron with her hair unfastened, risking contaminating brews, and all the while asking impertinent questions to both him and his students. Whenever she tittered at him, he knew it wasn't him the questions were meant to incriminate, but Hermione. That made her even more reprehensible.

Miracle of miracles, Potter had listened to his friends warning words before she left and was wearing the signet ring they'd made for him. The difference, he could swear, was visible. Potter was more focused on the potion in front of him than the visiting toad, and had only snickered a few times at her various insults to his teaching career. When she'd finished taking apart his Defense Against the Dark Arts application, he watched her carefully approach Miss Parkinson and Mister Malfoy's table, clearly intent on getting their perspectives. Severus watched her from his periphery while he focused his gaze on Hermione.

"You are used to having Professor Snape oversee your brewing, is that right?" the feminine voice was louder now, obviously trying to rile up Potter.

"Yes ma'am." Pansy was answering the questions.

"And did you perform better in previous years, with his supervision, or this year with Apprentice Granger?"

"Actually," Draco interjected, "Granger's been tutoring me and some other Slytherins after class hours."

Well, well … apparently Miss Granger's attempts to befriend the young Malfoy had been successful. Severus turned to observe the events with more interest. More interesting, he found, was that Miss Parkinson seemed to be encouraging Draco in his defense of Miss Granger. She was nodding emphatically at what the Malfoy heir said, even giving Draco an encouraging squeeze on his arm.

"Really?" Umbridge was scribbling furiously on her clipboard. "I'm surprised such an exceptional student would seek out a witch of Apprentice Granger's standing for help. You are best in your year so far, after all."

He could see Draco shrug, perfectly Slytherin and noncommittal. "Professor Snape said she was a resource we shouldn't hesitate to use, and I have to agree - she is very useful. I mean, obviously the Ministry thinks she's intelligent with her NEWT scores."

Professor Umbridge followed the young Malfoy heirs hand wave and looked at the NEWT scores Severus had posted for the first time that class, paling at the evidence of the Malfoy heir's assertion. Severus suppressed a smirk.

"Why are Miss Granger's test scores posted, Professor Snape?" Umbridge accused with a porky pointed finger. "Did she insist on it? Seeking attention for her accomplishments?"

He addressed the visiting Professor with a smirk on his lips. "I assure you, it was _my_ idea as opposed to my apprentice's. The students made the mistake early on of questioning the qualifications of Miss Granger. It would not do to have them treat my apprentice as a peer of their own standing, and so I posted her scores. Her embarrassment aside, it has served as an incentive for improvement in those who wish to meet or exceed her performance in my class. Nothing better than to pit them against a peer they should have no trouble surpassing, wouldn't you agree?

"W-well, I suppose, the-" She cleared her throat awkwardly. "The students would benefit better from a role model than a measuring stick, wouldn't you agree?"

"My students receive both," he motioned to himself and Miss Granger's scores, making his point clear. "I always strive to meet their every need, Madame High Inquisitor. That will not change."

Some Gryffindors snickered at that, but Severus remained stoic in face and word. Umbridge nodded sweetly at him and noted something on the clipboard.

"I'm sure you're a wonderful role model, Professor Snape," Umbridge said sweetly. "I just wonder whether the Ministry would approve of the level of involvement your apprentice has in the classroom."

He sneered. "Unfortunately, Madame, that is not within the Ministry's purview. The Mastery Council in Brussels sets the conditions of apprenticeship, and they have decided that apprentices must help with _all_ facets of their master's work. I am a Professor, and therefore Miss Granger needs experience in the classroom. If I'm to have her teach the mandated class for each level, I require she experience classes under my control first."

"How interfering you must find that, Professor," Umbridge feigned concern. "So many responsibilities, teaching seven year levels and an apprentice. And on top of that being a Head of House. How do you manage?"

"I do not allow Apprentice Granger the time to be an imposition, and so my schedule is much the same as it has been the past decade or so," Snape responded lowly.

No matter the angle, Madame Umbridge received no complaints or outs for Apprentice Granger, not from Severus, his Slytherins, or her Gryffindors. However, when Apprentice Granger did not return by the end of class, he was anxious for her sake. He'd seen the pain flicker across her face and could only hope the cause was mental and not physical, but the High Inquisitor would not be forgiving in the face of a malady. She would be pegged unreliable and opportunistic. He worried.

That was, until the purple-clad old man jigged into his Potions classroom with Madame Umbridge still tucked into a corner.

"Headmaster, how can I assist you today?" Severus asked, not moving to bow.

Dumbledore twinkled at them. "Ah, I was hoping to catch you, Severus. I came across your apprentice, looking ill as she's ever been and I sent her off to Madame Pomphrey. Seems the young woman caught something from her classmates. Not to fret, though, I'll have Minerva take her evening patrols."

Hmmm. Seems the old man had sent Miss Granger away on some task and she would not return until tomorrow. He nodded his head sharply.

"Hem hem."

Both men turned to the out-of-place bubblegum explosion that was Madame Umbridge. She smiled sweetly at them.

"Well hello, Dolores," Dumbledore greeted politely. "How may I assist you?"

"I'm so sorry, I don't mean to demean your judgement on this matter," she hummed, "but Miss Granger shows all the signs of faking. As you know, she's been openly spiteful to me since the first day, and now she gets ill the moment I enter the classroom? Hardly coincidental, Headmaster."

Severus nodded, although he hoped the headmaster would defend Miss Granger. "If she was, she will deal with the consequences. I give you my word, Madame High Inquisitor."

* * *

Hermione flew from the large fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron at an alarming rate, forcing her stumbling into the corner of one of the heavy medieval tables. She groaned at the impact. Her hip would be bruised until she could go barefoot next, but there was no place to do that in the Alley.

Tom gave her a look over his rag, and she flushed. "Sorry about that."

Under the barkeeps amused glances in her direction, she couldn't help but hurry out of the inn in a blushing flurry of hasty movements and awkward apologies. She was so … Canadian when she was around strangers, it was embarrassing.

She needed to calm down before she went to the goblins. They were notoriously serious and time-efficient, and any babble on her part would only be met with disdain or derision. She decided to see the twins before her meeting. Then she could start her meeting with 'I was just shopping in the Alley and thought I'd stop by' or something equally benign. Although, now she was thinking of it, it seemed a pathetic move.

No, she'd see the twins after. What she needed to do was march into Gringotts with her head held high, approach the nearest goblin, and tell them why she was there. No need for fluffy beginnings, smooth-talking, or other social graces with goblins. She just needed to show them she was just as much a businesswoman as they were; I'd prove to them that I was looking for profit and reward in investment. She was investing in the goblins, the reward was learning an art that had never been taught to a non-goblin.

She stopped outside of the imposing bank building and gathered her impervious front. Her occlumency barriers helped, but she when she approached a scene like this she needed to change her overlaying image. No longer an icy landscape, but a re-creation of what she imagined went on with Chaucer's Wife of Bath. A rich, independent woman on horse-back, dictating to the men surrounding her the faults of their sex. The scene gave her a confidence boost and with it covering her nerves and thoughts, she entered the bank.

The only problem, she was now realizing, was her Occlumency made it hard to extend her magic. It was like being both the sword and the shield on opposing sides. It was a constant battle, and she realized she needed to make a choice. Occlumency or magical sense, depending on the situation. She considered for a moment, then lowered her Occlumency shields. The goblins weren't known Legilimens, after all.

Although, she was under no misapprehensions as she approached the first goblin that became available; she had the letter from Head Goblin Targnak, the 'permission slip' from Dumbledore, and only a little bit of knowledge of the politics of the Goblin clans at her disposal. She'd need to be careful. Still, as she approached, her magic reached for the strange new magic is sensed in the goblin male. Not like Professor Flitwick in the slightest, their magic was … earthy. She could tell it was rooted not to their hands and blood but their eyes and bones.

A goblin with thin, wire-held glass lenses on his overly long, wrinkled nose greeted her with a sneer. His magic did not communicate feelings like wizards did, and for a moment she stumbled over her rehearsed greeting. It left him an opening to speak. "Name?"

"H-Hermione Granger."

"What's your business here today?" he scraped his quill along the parchment heavily, as if it were his nails scarping a chalkboard.

Hermione regained her composure and smiled at the goblin. "I'm here to see Head Goblin Targnak."

The goblin looked up at her, eyes narrowing. "He has more important things to do than handle low-level complaints."

"Oh, I'm not here to make any complaints," she reassured the goblin. "Targnak will want to see me, I promise." Then, upon seeing his look and remembering that she needed to speak business with the goblin, said, "Your Head Goblin – your _grishkna_ – is working on a contract for my employ with the Gringotts clan and I'm here to see to it."

The goblin sneered. "I doubt our _grishkna_ would take a contract from a wizard."

Hermione stiffened her back at the obviously offense. "If the goblin clan of Gringotts no longer wish for my services, or, more accurately, if one of their lowest ranking members does not even see fit to even _check_ with Targnak about my seeing him, I will see if I'm more desirable elsewhere. Perhaps the Rohtrill clan would offer me more for my … _lucrative_ services."

At the passing mention of increased wealth for the clan, the goblin's sneer diminished into a passive assessment of her person. She stood tall and proud, channeling Severus when he wanted to intimidate his students. She even narrowed her eyes a little at the goblin.

Finally, the goblin nodded. "I will send your name up to Targnak. Sit over there."

He pointed the quill to a tiny alcove of uncomfortable stone benches. Still thinking like Severus, she recognized it as a negotiation tactic. Sit your guest in a lavish waiting room and they'll expect opulent offers and excess, as opposed to making them think you're stingy so they don't expect more in their contracts. Smart.

"Make sure to mention I come with a letter from Albus Dumbledore," she mentioned casually. She had no experience in dealing with the goblins, but she knew that big names wouldn't necessarily impress. It was, however, polite to mention the letter. "Thank you."

She made her way to the stone benches and sat, daring to make herself comfortable. She took her scarf and shoved it down her satchel and unbuttoned her jacket. She kept it on, in case Targnak's office was deep in the vaults of Gringotts, but she doubted it. Still, it was a show of power. It was all a game to play, and she was determined not to let Harry down by losing. They needed, er, whatever it was.

Hermione had no idea what it was Dumbledore wanted her to find. Dark objects, certainly; valuable, Dumbledore was convinced; but what? She was not going to get it out of him, even though it had to do with Harry.

And what was that she'd even felt with Harry? She'd been so sure it was possession, but that was because it was like another person's magic overlapping his. And it had felt dark, and sick, and pained. It was everything that represented evil in a magical form, completely separate from Harry. Hermione had a feeling Dumbledore wouldn't give her the answer because she wouldn't like it if he did. Because it would kill her if, after everything Harry had to go through, something was wrong with him that she might not be able to fix.

"Hermione!" The cheery greeting broke her train of thought. Bill was waving at her and moving across the hall. She stood and embraced the long-haired Weasley. "I thought we weren't seeing you for another few days. But, I forgot, always the self-starter. I assume Dumbledore sent you?"

"Of course," she jutted her chin up in mock arrogance. "Hermione Granger would never go on a trip to Diagon Alley halfway through a school day without the permission of the Headmaster."

Bill chuckled. "Of course, I forgot I was talking to a swot. Well," he lowered his voice and moved closer, "between you an' me, good luck. I know goblins as well as any wizard, but they are righ' terrors."

"Any advice?" Hermione asked, nearly begging for anything. "All I know is what is learned in History of Magic, or what I read last night."

Bill scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well, if you really meet Targnak – half the battle itself, really – do not call him his name. Just one of his titles."

"Why?" she asked.

"Well, goblins are all class system an' what amounts to Slytherin politics," Bill tried to explain, looking pressed for words. "Best I can gather from how they talk an' we talk to them, only lower ranking goblins get called by their names. The rest are called by their rank. I think it's a flattery thing, like they got their rank an' their proud of it.

"Er, besides that," Bill thought hard, "I guess just say what you came to say and nothing else. Don't like us blabbering on at work an' such a lot of the time, so I guess it's a culture thing."

"I'll do my best," she grimaced. "So far all I know what to do is try to channel Severus Snape."

Bill laughed, but nodded. "Good plan. It might actually be the one society in the world where his attitude is completely normal."

Really? Hermione grinned at that thought. If the goblins were like Severus Snape, the man she was involved with, she might just be better than she thought at talking to them.

"Anyways, got to dash," Bill grabbed her for another hug. "What'cha doing for getting back to the school?"

"Oh, I'm staying with a total dog tonight," Hermione chuckled. "I'll get back to the castle tomorrow."

Bill hesitated. The look on his face drew the chuckle away into the air like a Dementor had snatched it. "What?"

"Now's not the greatest time to be around him, 'Mione," Bill admitted. "Do you have a way to tell Dumbledore where you are? You could stay will me or the twins tonight."

"What's wrong with Padfoot?" she wondered.

He grimaced. "We think he's been cooped up too long with too much alcohol. Don't get me wrong, it might do him a ton of good if you visit, but he's tried to hex the past few people who checked up on him outside of meetings."

Hermione sighed. Of course he was drinking, he had little else to do all day from his new prison. She didn't blame him for wanting to be free after his long, undeserved time in Azkaban. But to hex people? There was nothing for it - she would have to let Sirius in on what she could do. Even though Lupin hadn't commented on her magical interference, she had no doubt Sirius would be twice as blunt and demand an explanation.

Alright. If anyone could help him, it was her. "Thanks Bill, but if it could help …"

He raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

 **I'm surprised . . . no one commented on my wand choice for Severus Snape for last chapter. Cypress and unicorn hair.**

 **As you know, unicorn hair is one of the few wand cores, and the only one of the top three cores, that can die. It dies usually when used for dark arts and as such, it would seem strange for Snape to own such a wand. In his case, however, I believe it would make sense. Unicorns are creatures of light, but are also extremely effective at fighting the dark. I think the fact that Snape has a unicorn hair wand still, after so many years of dark arts, would actually give him hope.**

 **However, in that situation and coupled with the 'survivor's wood' of wands, cypress, it would make the unicorn hair extremely protective of its master. In order to protect him like it wants, it will do everything it can to provide power and keep others away. It is a light-powered, defensive wand with a possessive streak for its master.**

 **So... besides the wand choice for Severus, the re-posting of last chapter was a result of adding one additional chapter to the story. It wasn't a re-write, don't worry. It's ok. Breathe.**

 **Alright, and that's all my housekeeping! Review, review, review!**


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

* * *

"Thank you for meeting with me, _grishkna_ ," Hermione bowed her head politely to the slightly larger goblin before her. His teeth were sharp and not crooked, his ears went straight to the sides, and his fingers had various rings on them. In short, she was thinking of Al Capone the minute she saw him. Even his small clump of slicked back hair seemed fitting to the image he portrayed. Her magic, however, did not see him like that. It seemed the goblin leader was an epicenter of magical power, because her magic felt like she'd come in contact with a battery. Her own power seemed to flare in his presence. "I would apologize for the imposition, but I believe you are as eager as I am to get a contract started."

Targnak extended a hand and for a second Hermione entertained the idea of kissing the largest ring. Instead she accepted the hand and shook deliberately like her father taught her and then sat in his motioned seat.

"I expected you _and_ your current guardian, _pikodra,_ " Targnak said with an arched brow. "Why do you come alone?"

"I, uh, I-I have a letter," Hermione produced the letter from Dumbledore and handed it to the Head Goblin. While he went for his letter opener, she regained some composure. "H-Headmaster Dumbledore is my alchemy teacher, and since he is the one encouraging my time with your people we thought it would be better if you had his conditions. If we manage to make a contract today, I will deliver it to my Master for any alterations. We hoped that, instead of discussing the contract on Friday like we planned, we might already have a contract ready to be signed at that time."

The goblin held up his hand to stop her speaking and fixed glasses on the bridge of his nose to read Dumbledore's missive. She sat there, trying hard not to squirm like a schoolgirl and instead tried to channel her teaching authourity (meaning, her best Severus impression).

" _Interesting_ ," the goblin's eyes flickered up to hers with a menacingly curious look. "Did the Headmaster tell you just what he wants in exchange for your services?"

Hermione shifted under his look. "Privacy for me when working, I'm pretty sure, and … he wanted to see if you'd teach me in return."

"Yes, teach you the goblin metalcraft," Targnak mused. He folded the letter and placed it on his desk. It was promising, to Hermione, that he didn't throw the parchment on the readily available corner fireplace. Still, her anxiety was sky high. "He wishes us to teach a girl of no more than eighteen our most preserved secret. A secret we've held back from wizards for thousands of years. A secret that, should it be revealed to even a fraction of wizards, could mean the end of my kind. And all for wealth. Does that summarize his request?"

The fear from his words made her reach instinctively for her time-turner. Realizing her mistake, she lowered her hand almost as quickly. "You know my age?"

Targnak gave her a predatory smile. "The answer to how we know your age, _pikodra,_ is the same as what's special about our craft. Now, I ask again – is that truly his only request?"

"If that's all the note said, then, I think it is. Yes." She shimmied around in her chair. "We understand that it's a pretty big request, and so I'm sure we can negotiate another way if its too much."

"Oh, I believe we will be accepting your terms," the goblin chuckled with menace. "The problem with this proposal is simply that it is entirely in favour of your Masters and us, with nothing in it for you."

"I want to learn," she insisted.

"You _will_ learn," Ragnak reassured her. "And your first lesson, little apprentice, is to never offer yourself up like this again. You're offering to give us precious resources, and what you have said is your reward - learning our metalcraft – is to give us free labor in our smithy."

Hermione nodded, slowly understanding. "So, you _want_ me to ask for money?"

"We are not about to take advantage, _pikodra_ ," he scribbled on a parchment in front of him. "Our metalcraft is taught by a Master who is a resource for the smith until his day of passing to the ether. We would not take advantage of one who we seek lifelong relations with."

"You mean …" Hermione hemmed and hawed a little. "I would have a Master for the rest of my life among the Goblins?"

Targnak gave her a menacing smile. "Every item you make is a credit to your Master, for as long as your Master lives."

She nodded quickly. "Of course, of course! I mean, I would hope to become friends with whoever teaches me."

"Friends . . ." Targnak rolled the word in his mouth. "Goblins do not view relations as you witches and wizards do. Yet, I suppose, after this contract is enacted, we can call you a friend of the Gringotts clan."

Hermione brightened at the obvious attempt by Targnak to relate to her. "I would like that, _grishkna_."

"Now, we negotiate the terms," Targnak dipped his quill in preparation. "We will teach you our metalcraft on two of your three days with us, and you will provide the precious resources needed on the day left. Since you are asking to learn the goblin-craft, anything you craft with us will be sold and any profits transferred to your vaults, or, - if you prefer - you keep what you make."

Hermione hesitated at the choice. "It would depend what it was, I suppose. I have no use for a goblin-made letter opener, but if I made a full suit of armor like we learned about in History of Magic, I would undoubtedly want to keep it."

"Now you're thinking like a goblin," Ragnak nodded approvingly. "Very well. We'll outline the choice in the contract so the smith you're assigned to knows. How soon do you think your Masters need to review the contract?"

They hammered out the rest of the details fairly pleasantly, and Hermione felt uneasy with the ease of the interaction. Goblins were meant to take advantage of one-sided business deals, so why did they insist on paying her? More importantly, why did Targnak look like he was holding onto some sort of secret, like he was still getting a better deal in spite of that?

Still, she had left with what she thought was a fair contract in her satchel and the reassurance that the next week, she'd begin associating with the goblins. But the more she'd sat in that office, the less she was sure about what was going to happen. She could picture getting close to the goblin clan, but becoming family? How was that supposed to happen?

It was something to take up with Dumbledore after he'd come to get her.

For now, though, she had another thing to worry about. Without the threat of failing her first meeting with the Head Goblin, she could focus on the cryptic warning Bill gave her about Sirius. He had tried to hex people?

She knew Sirius was a proud man, but he was also good-natured. Usually only Severus, or Harry's well-being, drew Sirius' anger. Dumbledore was not letting him leave Grimmauld, but Sirius only seemed angry at Order meetings when he couldn't do anything. What was going on?

There was nothing for it but to head to Grimmauld and see to him. She turned and apparated from the Alley to Grimmauld Place and climbed the steps quickly before she could lose her nerve. Knocking quickly, she turned the doorhandle and stepped into the dark house.

Her magics were still free from her meeting with the goblins, so when she stepped into the house she was struck again by the dark magic of the place. It seemed stronger than before. Fiercer, angrier. It felt warm against her own magic, feverish.

"Sirius?" Hermione called, shutting the door behind her. "Sirius, I'm here!"

There was shuffling and a whine coming from the room, and she followed the noise. The door was closed with magic, clearly put in place by Sirius. A few different unlocking charms and it finally let up, opening to let her through. Snuffles, Sirius, was laying on the rug in front of the fireplace with his paws over his snout.

When her eyes made contact with his form, her magic followed the gaze and grazed his, just for a moment to determine what was wrong. When it did, she took an involuntary step back. It was the same magic that had Harry bursting at the seams. It was the same darkness that broke through every now and again with her best friend, now seeping into his Godfather's magic. It was weaker, but this didn't seem to be going away or in any way suppressed. If he had to live with this magic constantly pressing into his own, it's no wonder he was angry.

"Sirius?" She murmured, approaching carefully. "Sirius, I'm going to share something with you, alright? Something only a few people know about. But I need you to be human again, alright? You won't hurt me."

Sirius uncovered his face and barked at her before turning on his tail and facing away from her towards the roaring fire. She moved closer. "Sirius?"

Kreacher popped into existence just next to his master and glared at her. "Master has ordered he be left alone, filthy mudblood, disgrace to magic. Mudblood must not disturb him."

Upon Kreacher's appearance, Hermione fell over onto her hand and knees, pain echoing through her magic. The little elf was infinitely more riddled with the angry, dark magic, taken over nearly completely. The feverish feel of Sirius and the house was nothing compared to the burning fire of Kreacher's magic.

The knobbly old house elf was tainted horribly - he felt like Harry at full force, telling her something she never thought would happen today: Grimmauld Place was home to one of the objects Dumbledore wanted her to find.

"Kreacher," she gasped. "What … There's a dark magic object here. Do you know what it is?"

He glared at her. "Mudblood does not demand things of Kreacher."

"Kreacher, please, Sirius is being exposed as well," Hermione pleaded. "Your master is being hurt. It would be something valuable, something Voldemort would prize."

Kreacher hissed and covered his ears. "Mudblood speaks his name! Mudblood brings the curses of the Dark Master on her heads! Filthy disgrace, you do not speak of him!"

Sirius, seeing the commotion Hermione was causing, shifted back into his human form to grab Kreacher. "You will not use that word, Kreacher!"

"Sirius!" Hermione gasped. "Sirius, it's not his fault! He's being possessed, Sirius!"

Lord Black stopped shaking the house elf and looked down at the fetal-curled Hermione. "He what?!"

"Sirius, order him to bring you the object I asked for, the one that's valuable to Vol-the Dark Lord," Hermione insisted. "I can feel it in the house, and I know Kreacher has been interacting with it."

"Kreacher, do you know what she's asking for?" Sirius asked the house-elf.

Kreacher pulled at his ears but nodded.

"Why didn't you give it to me before this?" Sirius demanded. "Answer me!"

The old elf whimpered. "Master Regulus gaves it to me, told me to keep it secret, hide it, destroy it! I is ordered to take it and leave, not return! Destroy it, he dies and wants Kreacher to destroy it! I tries, tries so hard for Master Regulus, but Kreacher's magic couldn't dos it!"

"Reggie?" Sirius whispered, almost unhearing of the rest of it. Hermione could see the vacant look in his eyes.

"Sirius!" Hermione called. "Please, Sirius, get it from him. I need to destroy it!"

"Missy Mudblood cans destroy it?" Kreacher shook. "Missy can releases the order from Kreacher?"

Hermione nodded. "And if I can't, Dumbeldore can. But first you need to bring it to me."

"Bring it to Hermione, Kreacher," Sirius order, placing the elf on the carpet once more. "Go get it and bring it here."

"Yes, Master Black," he turned and cracked away for a moment before returning a second later, a locket the size of his hand dangling from his knobbly hand. An emerald crested 'S' covered the front of it.

 _Slytherin's locket._ Hermione's eyes widened. The perverse, dark energy coming off the object was enough to keep her on her knees. But she still took her wand from her pocket.

"Kreacher, put it down and leave," Sirius ordered, seeing Hermione's action.

Hermione used her magic to summon lightning to send at the locket. It bounced off, hitting the couch. She tried with fire, to the same result. She grimaced and extinguished the couch fire.

"That's not working," Sirius stated obviously, earning Hermione's growl. He held up his hands in surrender.

She sent curse after curse at the locket, only getting herself more and more angry in the process. Finally, she gave up on it and admitted she needed Dumbledore. She summoned her patronus, the winged horse, and sent it off to Dumbledore. When it vanished, she looked at Sirius and finally realized what she'd revealed to the man.

"I don't know if I was supposed to tell you, Sirius," Hermione admitted hesitantly. "When Dumbledore sees you, I don't know what he'll say, but you can't tell anyone what happened today. It's secret."

"What is this thing?" he asked, nudging the locket with his boot.

Hermione bit her lip. "Dumbledore wouldn't say, only that it keeps Voldemort coming back."

Sirius recoiled from the locket. "And Reggie, my brother, _a Death Eater_ , tried to destroy it?"

"Maybe he followed the example of his older brother after all," Hermione voiced softly and with an encouraging smile. With those words, the serious atmosphere turned sad, emotional. She could see the tough exterior melt from Sirius' face as despondency won out. "How did he die?"

Sirius knelt next to Hermione, staring at the locket. The locket represented the hope that Regulus Black, of all his family, might have turned good in the end. She knew he needed the comfort she could give, and so, gently, she placed her arms around him. Holding him gently as he stared at the locket.

"He just went missing, one day," he remembered. "I was already in Azkaban, and dad came to tell me Reggie was presumed dead. They never found a body, but I knew it must have been You-Know-Who. I felt so … justified. He'd gotten what I told him he would when he first got that mark. I told him he would get killed, and he did. He's been dead for fifteen years … angry at him for _fifteen years_."

"You didn't know," Hermione encouraged. "This, this _thing_ Voldemort made makes him invulnerable – maybe Regulus, like us, wanted to see the end of this. For you, for everyone. Maybe he died as one of the good guys."

They sat there, just breathing, for the longest time.

"I miss him sometimes, you know?" Sirius confessed in a low voice, not wanting to gain attention but needing to be said. "Sometimes I hear mom yelling from the hallway and I forget she's dead, and I wish Reggie was there to hide me. To defend me. He used to do that, you know? He never stood up to her, he never disappointed her, but he would try to help me."

He turned to look at her. "Do you think he died a hero?"

The fire blazed and roared effervescent green, startling both of them out of the difficult discussion. Albus Dumbledore strode through the fireplace with a sword in hand and Fawkes on his shoulder, his face hopeful. He looked at the two of them, kneeling in front of the locket, and his eyes widened happily.

"You found it!" Dumbledore proclaimed, beaming wildly. "This is a good day, Miss Granger, a _wonderful_ day! However did you come across it?"

"It was Reggie," Sirius said strongly, clearly trying to make it real to himself.

Hermione grimaced at the Headmaster, mentally pleading at him to be sensitive. "Kreacher has been trying to destroy it, and I can't even do it. I've tried fire, lightning, explosions, everything I could think of, but it isn't even dented."

"Ah, that is because an object such as this is cannot be destroyed through sheer force." He presented the sword of Godric Gryffindor in front of him, showing her. "This has been imbued with basilisk venom – one of the few substances that can destroy such things – and as such, it is what we will use against the locket."

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Do it then."

Dumbledore smiled down at her and shook his head, instead extending the sword to Sirius, who looked at it in shock. The kindly Headmaster held the sword there, offering it to the saddened pureblood. "As it was your brother who brought this about, would you do the honours, my boy?"

Hermione beamed. That was what Sirius needed, with all his guilt surrounding his brother – to fulfill his final request. Sirius struggled to his feet and grabbed the sword, changing its grip several times in his hand to get comfortable. He paused.

"Should we have some words, or something?" he asked them, trying to lighten the mood. "I feel like, you know, this is a significant moment. It needs something like, 'Another step towards peace and happiness,' or 'I hope Voldemort wanks to this.'"

"Sirius!" Hermoine gasped, mortified. Dumbledore laughed. "I did NOT need that image!"

Sirius chuckled, the tension broken. He hefted the sword high, positioning it above the locket with a look of fierce concentration.

"For Regulus?" Hermione suggested softly.

Sirius' hand shook with the sword in hand, but his eyes focused on the locket. "For Reggie!"

He forced it down swiftly and harshly. The tip of the sword caught the center of the locket and a cloud of vile smoke came out, screeching and screaming and hissing. Hermione moved back instinctively, but Dumbledore waved his wand over the scene, containing the explosive black cloud from spreading. After moment of intense, loud, unbearable screeching, the cloud dissipated and the broken, stabbed locket lay there. Dead.

It was quiet. Hermione nearly jumped as Dumbledore bent down and touched the locket with his hand. But he was fine. He picked it up in his hand, weighing and considering. Finally, Dumbledore smiled.

"Another one destroyed," he told the pair of them. "I do not know how many there are left, but we are closer than we were before. And it is in part thanks to your brother, Sirius, and you, Miss Granger. Thank you."

They both nodded, but even with the locket gone and destroyed Hermione could feel how its dark energy had permeated Sirius' magic. The work wasn't done with the locket.

"Sir?" she put out. "I know Sirius can't leave the house, but he and Kreacher have both been exposed to dark magic. They need to be treated."

Dumbledore looked at her kindly. "Do you not think you are capable of this feat?"

She folded her arms across her chest defiantly. "I'm not a healer, Headmaster. "

"But can your magic not feel what is wrong, what is needed to fix them?" Dumbledore asked. "From what our friend told me, you may be the very best person to aid them."

She let her eyes flicker to Sirius poignantly, asking Dumbledore if he truly wanted her to expose herself to him. He merely smiled and moved to the fireplace.

"I will leave you overnight as to give you plenty of time for healing," he said. "See you bright and early tomorrow, Miss Granger."

Before she could ask any questions or clarify anything, Dumbledore went through the floo to the Headmaster's office and left her alone with Sirius Black.

"Well," Sirius drew out, "that was dramatic. Want a drink?"

He went straight to the bureau without a moment to breathe and unstopped the crystal decanter filled with firewhiskey. She sat on the couch carefully, not wanting to jostle Sirius from his newfound spirit when she knew, from his magic, that he was still distraught about his brother. She accepted the tumbler of whiskey without comment.

Sirius dropped himself on the couch next to her with his own glass, not saying a word and making no sounds but his sips.

"So … you have something to share, Kitten?" he asked casually. "You know, why our illustrious Headmaster think you're the best to heal Dark Magic-related maladies?"

"Or – and this is, I think, the best option – I do whatever magic I can and you agree never to ask me about it?" Hermione suggested pointedly.

Sirius waggled his finger at her. "Ah, ah, ah, kitten, none of that. Our illustrious leader gave you his blessing, after all."

"I can have permission to tell you without wanting to," Hermione retorted. "Now, do you want me to heal you or not?"

Sirius shrugged. "I can't feel whatever it is you do, but knock yourself out."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course he would be so blasé about this. Not wanting to deal with him any longer, she set down her glass and extended both hands, offering them to him. He quirked an aristocratic brow.

"It'll be easier if I can touch you," she stated matter-of-factly, "and no, _Snuffles_ , not in that way. Just give me your hands."

Sirius chuckled but put down his own glass.

"Bit young for me, Kitten," he winked.

Hermione scoffed. "Please. You'd be so lucky."

Still, they fastened hands and Hermione felt the dark fire licking at her skin. She took a steadying breath and let her magic extend once more. It trickled up his arms, feeling the black magic resist her interference. When her magic encompassed the entirety of Sirius Black, the dark energy that had clutched to him like a parasite jumped out and attacked.

Fire burnt through her system as the dark moved from him to her, trying to latch on and hold her under its power. She had more control than to scream, but she whimpered as her magic fought the battle inside her system.

At first the magic went for her core, attempting its hardest to latch on. Her magic was so incompatible, so against its invasion that it couldn't get purchase. It changed strategy, moving everywhere around her body, trying to find a weakness in her to exploit. She focused on tracking the energy, trying to catch it, squash it, stop it from hurting her.

Then, Hermione had a thought. If the dark magic was an illness in her magical supplies, then she just needed to renew them. She needed to get outside.

"Kitten, Hermione, are you alright?" Sirius asked frantically. "Do I need to send for someone? What can I do?"

She opened her eyes and set her jaw tightly, determined not to scream at the ever-moving agony in her body. "Take me outside, please." That last word was just a whisper, but Sirius obeyed instantly. He took her by the arm and half-carried her to the small, infinitesimally small plot behind the Black kitchen. A pretty big garden for London, but still barely enough room for even a table back there.

She kicked off her shoes instantly and pressed her feet hopefully to the died or dying grass and soil beneath her feet. It worked. Magic climbed up her, driving the dark energy higher and higher until it had nowhere else to go. She screamed in agony as the magic clawed into her, trying to keep a foothold. Finally, the power she was absorbing gave an almighty push and the energy left her body. She could feel it die in the air, lost without its host.

She was dizzy for a moment until the magic beneath her feet could repair the damage and replenish her energy, but when she was fully healed she grinned over to Sirius in accomplishment. The sight made her chuckle. The Lord of the Manor was still holding her up with a gobsmacked expression on his face, clearly not having believed the magic he'd seen.

"Well, that worked," she said happily. "Want to call Kreacher?"

"What?" Sirius shook himself out of his shocked stupor. "No, no, Kitten, you're not doing that again."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sirius, I'll be fine. Kreacher was worse off than you, and he _needs_ to be put to rights. Call him."

Sirius put a hand through his through his hair in exasperation. "Kitten, you were hurting. How can you want to do that again?"

"I don't _want_ to, I _need_ to," she said firmly. "Kreacher needs healing. In fact, the dark magic might explain why he is so ghastly to everyone – you can't be exposed to dark magic for fifteen years without some severe consequences. What if he's been possessed? We'd need to get it out of him in order to have properly destroyed the-the, whatever it is."

Sirius grimaced at the thought and nodded, clearly wanting the whole ordeal to be over and dealt with. At his call, the house-elf popped into the backyard with large, wet eyes. Hermione's heart broke at seeing the little, crotchety elf so close to tears.

"Master Sirius has destroyed it," Kreacher warbled. "He finished Master Reggie's order. Kreacher is free, free from hissing and pain and punishment. Master Sirius is good Master."

Sirius looked shocked at what the elf said. Casting a glance between him and Hermione, he swallowed in his throat.

"Kreacher, Hermione wants to heal you," Sirius told him. "She noticed, er, something."

"Kreacher," Hermione knelt in front of the elf, "that locket has left some dark energy on your magic. Well, more than some. Have you noticed anything? Getting angry quicker, being sad, or any pain?"

Kreacher's eyes were wide and teary. He nodded his head. "Kreacher is wanting to do more, but magic is nots working all times. Must use muggle items to clean Mistress' Portrait."

"That's the dark magic inside you," Hermione told him. "I can get rid of it, and help you to feel better. I just need you to take my hand, okay?"

Kreacher recoiled from her extended hand. "The filth wishes to touch me?"

"Kreacher!" Sirius barked. "Hermione is the reason the locket was destroyed in the first place, and you _will_ show her respect!"

"It's fine Sirius," Hermione waved him off, still extending her hand to Kreacher. "Please, Kreacher, we just want your magic to be better."

Slowly, Kreacher's knobbled and dirty hand extended and rested in hers. She smiled comfortingly at the small elf, hoping to make the elf more at ease. Wit her feet still firmly pressed against the ground, she thrust her magic forward to take the darkness from him.

Kreacher's healing was more painful. The dark magic was siphoned off him with difficulty, as there was enough dark for several cleansings in one. It was potent, and it felt every bit like the Cruciatus Moody had used on her the previous year. Still, she let the darkness run through her and away from Kreacher. She understood why Kreacher had been losing some of his ability; the darkness was devouring her own magic like it was a snack, and if she hadn't been on the ground already she would have been overcome. The effort to expel it brought her body to convulsion. She placed her hands on the ground as well as her feet to bring more siphoned energy from the ground below to thrust the darkness from her and into the air where it dissipated and died.

This time, her recovery took more than just a few moments. She wretched into the grass, her stomach unable to keep its contents after the onslaught of dark magic and pain. Once the contents of her stomach were on the dry dirt, she wobbled, fell to her side, and passed out.

* * *

 **Hey guys, sorry for being away so long! My anxiety meds have stopped working, and I've been keeping irregular and unproductive hours since then. It really sucks. But I am still thinking of my stories and working through characterizations and endings and what I want for everything. You guys are awesome though, and I love every review I get for the piece. This story really is an exploration of everything Harry Potter I wanted to explore, from goblins and creatures to plot holes and what-ifs.**


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

* * *

Sirius Black panicked. There was a girl in front of him, glowing as bright as a star, and completely and utterly unconscious. His first thought was to get Moony and on revising it, it wasn't a bad idea.

He looked to Kreacher, suddenly aware that he'd need the Walburga-obsessed little creature if he was going to get help from anywhere, and gaped. Gone was the old, crinkled face and the repulsive sneer. In its place was the same – of slightly older – Kreacher that he'd grown up with. The stern elf was now worrying over Hermione, but staying well out of the bright yellow ribbons dancing around her.

"Kreacher, can you go bring Moon-Remus here?" Sirius asked.

Kreacher nodded. "I go. Leave little Mistress."

Sirius just nodded. In a flash, Kreacher was gone and he was left staring at the bundle of light wondering what in the blazes was going on.

* * *

When Severus first felt the twinge in his magic, he was brewing. He put the cauldron in stasis immediately, knowing that even the tiniest flux in magic while brewing could have disastrous consequences. Slowly, over the course of a few minutes, the sensation died. He wondered, for a moment, then returned to his work. Minutes later, it returned with a violence. He knew then exactly what was happening - something was wrong with Hermione.

Severus did not know where the Headmaster had sent her., but he became desperate to know. Striding to his fireplace, intent on the answers he sought, he tossed in the powder and flooed the Headmaster. He would go to her, and _now_.

* * *

When Moony came back from his watch-duty last Halloween, he'd told Sirius about the feeling he'd gotten around Hermione. The sheer measure of comfort she'd provided. He knew she'd been somewhat in control of it as well, and he had no idea what it meant. He had found a mate, Tonks, and he didn't need another. Not that this felt the same at all, but rather he had no idea what it meant to the wolf. Moony seemed to be overjoyed at the girl, and it made him nervous about his next encounter with Tonks.

He needn't have worried. Moony still started panting after Tonks the minute she was within view, just as he should have with his mate. So what was Hermione? The wolf didn't know, but he wanted to be around her. Like she fed something else the wolf needed, like … like a mother wolf? He couldn't be sure, but he wasn't going to share it with anyone other than Sirius.

It was panic that filled him, then, when Kreacher popped into his cabin and told him, "Master needs help with Missy Mudblood."

His wolf had him taking Kreacher's hand without a thought, even though he was exhausted. He didn't ask for more information, he didn't try to decide if he needed to go because he needed his rest for the full moon coming up, he just leapt up and grabbed the elf and let him teleport out of there.

He landed in the tiny, dirt backyard of Grimmauld Place to witness a sight. Hermione Granger, the girl who calmed Moony, was on the ground surrounded by a brilliant display of magic. One look told him it wasn't Sirius' doing, but more hers. A second look told him that she was unconscious.

It's as though the shock of the sight unleashed the wolf. Moony took charge, charging and entering the magical display to grab a hold of the girl who meant so much to him. When the ribbons of magic touched him, he felt a familial bond like none he'd felt since accepting Sirius and James as pack. But this was more. It refreshed and invigorated him, making him feel like it was the new moon instead of days before his next transformation. Even stranger, Moony grew stronger in her presence and took control, whimpering at her broken state and licking the girl's face tenderly.

"Remus, she's stopped glowing!" Sirius exclaimed joyfully, unaware of what was going on with his friend. "How'd you do that?"

Remus turned his body to protect Hermione, although not consciously, from Sirius, before turning his face to the animagus he loved like a brother to give a startlingly loud growl. Sirius paused in his step, now wary of approaching.

"Remus?" he called. No reply, Moony was busy nuzzling the girl in his arms. "Moony?"

"Pack," Moony whined. "Heal pack."

"Yes, heal pack mate," Sirius reaffirmed gently. "Your pack mate needs to be brought inside. Can you do that Moony?"

Moony nodded and trotted his newest pack mate into the house, bringing her to the sitting room and laying her with unusual tenderness on the couch. Sirius made to approach, but Moony growled at him in warning.

"Moony, mate, I know you want to protect her, but she's already hurt," Sirius told him. Moony whimpered. "Remus would know how to heal her. We need Remus."

That seemed to calm Moony down. The amber faded from his eyes and he came back to their world. It was terrifying how out of control he had been, and how dominant Moony was, when he'd seen Hermione hurt.

"I'm sorry, Pads," he sighed.

Sirius clapped him on his arm. "It's ok, mate. Let's just … make sure she's alright."

The fireplace ignited behind Remus and he stiffened, trying to control the instinct of Moony to defend Hermione from this unannounced intruder. He growled and turned, crouching defensively in front of Hermione's body. What he heard next didn't help.

"What. Happened?!"

Severus Snape had arrived.

* * *

Hermione woke refreshed. Which, when juxtaposed against what she last remembered feeling, was a profound relief. At least she wasn't permanently hurt. She felt for her magic and found it healthy and whole, surrounding her protectively. Upon being reassured that it was intact and at full strength again, she instructed it to stop protecting her and sent it away, stretching it around the room. Two anxious signatures, one familiar and one refreshed and new.

She could feel that she was on some couch, and so she opened her eyes to determine where she was. Sirius' animagus form was curled on the floor by her head, and so help her, Severus is there too. Not by Sirius -that would be ridiculous – but standing by the fireplace with a dark expression on his face.

There was no way she could hide her newly awakened state from the master spy, especially when he stiffened at the feel of her magic enfolding around her. A pang of relief flew through his magic. He caught her eyes and seemed to exhale sharply before crossing the space between them and reaching for her.

"Are you alright?" Severus asked sharply. She nodded, but he still pulled her up to a sitting position, placing a hand on her forehead before pulling out his wand. "Hold still."

He waved his wand over her, various hues coming over her. After a few minutes, and a bark from the Sirius-animagus, that he gave a relieved look. "You seem fine."

Sirius ran out of the room and barked loudly, earning a laugh from me. Severus pinched his nose in irritation before glaring at me, effectively ending my laughter.

"Do you have any concept of self-preservation?" Snape accused. "One day, Miss Granger. One, solitary day away from the castle and you manage to somehow put yourself in a healing coma!"

"I had to," she defended herself earnestly. She wanted Severus to understand, to forgive her for worrying him. "I had to heal Kreacher."

Snape glared. "When did you become so close to the werewolf?"

Hermione frowned. "Professor Lupin?" He nodded sternly. "What does he have to do with this?"

As if to answer her question, Sirius popped back into the room in human form, Remus following slowly at his tail. Remus stopped at the entrance of the room to observe her, a strange look in his eye and a growing amber there, before he smiled grimly and entered the room. When he accepted the closeness to her, she extended her magic to encompass the werewolf. He looked at her when she did, aware of what she did.

Sirius grinned at her. "Welcome back, kitten."

His boyish charm was back, so the dark magic must be gone. I smiled in return.

"Are you alright now, Hermione?" Remus asked quietly.

Snape sneered at the werewolf, but she wasn't catering to his moods. She turned her smile to Professor Lupin, happy to see the friendly werewolf but also interested to know what he did to cause Severus' indignation.

"Fine, thank you," she replied. "What are you doing here, Professor?"

"Just Remus, Hermione," he corrected, although he seemed to shrink at the words. He coughed awkwardly. "Actually, Sirius brought me over when you passed out."

"For all the good that did," Severus muttered under his breath.

"OK ..?" Hermione looked between them. "What happened?"

"There was an incident," Severus interrupted sternly. "You failed to take the necessary precautions when healing the residents of this hovel and as such created a panic when you started … glowing. From Black, Lupin … and his alter-ego."

Hermione turned to look at Remus, who was staring resolutely at the floor. " _Moony_ was upset? Your wolf came out?"

Sirius clapped happily, while Remus grimaced. "Welcome to the pack, kitten!"

Hermione gaped, but quickly closed her mouth when she felt how uncomfortable it made Remus.

"Remus, I know you were my Professor, but besides that and Halloween, we really haven't spent time together," she pointed out. "But, Moony still likes me?"

"Not as a mate," he insisted quietly. "Something about you on Halloween made Moony consider you pack. He is overprotective of you, and terrified of losing another packmate. I'm sorry."

He was refusing to meet her gaze, as if ashamed that Moony had claimed her as pack. It warmed her heart to the point where she couldn't remain sitting. She jumped from the lumpy sofa, ignoring the growl of Severus, and ran over to give Remus a much needed hug.

"Miss Granger, you should not be up!" Severus insisted.

She turned, releasing her hold on Remus a fraction. " _Master_ , I'm fine and I clearly need to work this out with Remus. Can we do that … without you?"

She knew it was far from the tone Severus wanted her to use, but Sirius made it worse. The animagus laughed at her perceived rudeness and made Severus clench his jaw and storm from the room. Despite knowing she would need to fix things with Severus later, Hermione was focused only on the dejected look on Remus' face. She pulled away from the awkward Remus, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Remus, look at me," Hermione murmured quietly, seeing the werewolf's discomfort. He flickered his gaze upwards briefly before letting them fall again. "Remus, is it … it's not a bad thing."

"He won't believe you, kitten," Sirius teased loudly. "Remus here thinks anything that brings out the wolf is terrible."

She turned to look at Remus. "You don't think being friend with me is terrible, do you?"

"No, but it usually happens on purpose," he admitted. He held her gaze this time, apologetic. "It took years of friendship with Sirius before my wolf took him as pack. One meeting at Halloween where you comfort me should not have been enough. It isn't … normal."

She saw Sirius move to contradict him, but she intervened.

"Hey, I'm not exactly _normal_ in the first place," Hermione reassured him with a chuckle. "I mean, you both saw how _not normal_ I am. For what it's worth, I'm really flattered that Moony trusts me enough to be part of your pack. I can be your friend, Remus, if you like."

Remus looked intimidated by her answer, rejecting it out of hand. "I nearly tore Sirius and Snape apart when they tried to help. Moony was so … protective of you, I couldn't control him. My wolf could have cost you your recovery, Hermione."

"It was just magical depletion. I'm completely fine now," she squeezed him hard. "Feel that? Healthy as a horse."

"Umph," Remus grunted.

Sirius laughed outright. "Pack, definitely pack. But how are we going to induct her, Remus?"

Remus groaned, and she just let him go and laughed. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Don't count on it," Remus cautioned, sending a glare to Sirius. "After they started running with me, and after Mooney started liking them, they all made it a personal mission to prank Minerva McGonagall _in the middle of class_. She chased them around with a transfigured broom like a bunch of mice."

Hermione laughed sadly, but now that Remus was okay, her mind went to Severus.

"Is Kreacher alright?" she asked suddenly.

At his name the elf popped into the room in front of Hermione grinning wildly. He looked nothing like Kreacher had before, clean and smiling and with far fewer wrinkles. In fact, he looked quite a bit younger than the elf had.

"Mistress, Kreacher is indebted to you," Kreacher bowed eagerly. "Master has allowed me to show my gratitude, Missy Mudblood, and Kreacher has a gift to bestow on you. You is to be honoured by elf-kin for helping Kreacher."

He popped out briefly, taking only a second before popping back into the room with another few house elves in tow.

"Kreacher is Master Sirius' elf," Kreacher told her seriously, "but Missy Mudblood has done much good for Kreacher. I is talking with other elf-kin and they is offering to show gratitude and honour to Missy through elf-bond."

Hermione's eyes widened. "But, that's slavery!"

Sirius interjected, coming to her side. "Not quite, Hermione. House-elves really were wild elves enslaved by wizards back in the time of Gothbard the German, but nowadays they can't exactly go back to being wild because they need magical households and wards to sustain their own magic. Elves can live a long time within the wards, up to five hundred years, but without them …."

"Misstress is –" One elf made a series of clacking noises, earning frantic nods from the other elves. It seemed to be some sort of title, earning a bow from all the elves. "Misstress has strong magic, is elf-friend, and is friend with elf-friend Harry Potter. We is asking Mistress to accepts our magic bound and do us honour of serving great Mistress."

She felt conflicted. Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees in front of the short little house-elves, looking at each of them. "What are your names? Where did you come from, if you're not from a household?"

One elf with bright blue eyes came forward, bowing. It was a little female elf, she could see. She was well-groomed and looked very put-together in her approach. "I is Helgy. I is born to free elves of Hogwarts."

"I is Frat!" A male elf came forward, eagerly grabbing his fellow elf and dragging him forward. They looked amazingly similar, bright green eyes, the same ears, but with different coloured pillowcases. They must be twins, which, as she understood it, was somewhat rarer than in wizards and muggles. "This be Gemm. We is born in House Malfoy, but _mamsa_ is hiding us and we is not bonded to Master Lucius. We is happy to serve friend of House of Black."

A final, shy elf came forward. "I is Csara. I is free elf in House of Newell."

"Where are they from?" Hermione asked kindly.

"Masters lives in Americas, Miss," Csara told her quietly. "Americas has no elves, and Masters made elf-kin free. Elf-kin needs wizard bonds, Miss. I is alone."

Hermione bit her lip anxiously. "I don't even have a house, you guys. I stay at Hogwarts right now, and I will until either Master Snape leaves or until I finish my apprenticeship."

"We knows," the elves said. "We cans ask nest-mother of Hogwarts to lets us be there for Mistress family."

She must have looked pained, because the elves looked at her anxiously. "And you _want_ to be my elves?

Kreacher interjected then, with a smile on his older features. "Missy Mudblood is kind, but elves be wishing always to be in honourable house. Is Missy Mudblood honourable?"

"I try to be," she answered honestly, nervous as to her answers.

"And Missy has much magics," Kreacher seemed to count off. "Will Missy hurts elves?"

"Never!" she protested indignantly. "I'd never hurt any of you!"

"Missy healses Kreacher, Kreacher knows Missy never hurtses elves," Kreacher reassured her. "Missy is better Mistress for elves than other witches – Gem and Frat wills needs to bond soon to keeps magics, and if Mistress not accept they bond with Malfoys."

Hermione shuddered at the thought. "So, you all want me to be your Mistress because I'm, er, elf-friend, have good magic strength, and will not be a bad Mistress?"

The house-elves nodded eagerly.

"Does Missy agree to performs elf-bondings?" Kreacher asked her now, looking eager.

"Err," she hesitated. "I don't really need four elves –" Csara whimpered, "so, if I do bond with you, I might have one of you stay with Kreacher and take care of Remus and Sirius. You'd need to be okay with it."

The Malfoy and Hogwarts elves looked frightened at the prospect of staying in the London house of Black. Csara looked excited. "I cans, Mistress. I is cleaning elf for Master Newell."

"Kreacher, would you like Csara to stay her for a while, at least until I need her?" Hermione asked the residing House-Elf. Kreacher grinned.

"Csara is good elf," he proclaimed loudly, earning a snort from Sirius and a guffaw from Remus. Csara herself looked pleased. "We wills keep Master's house together."

This made Hermione smile. She looked back to Sirius for affirmation, knowing that he would know what to do. He shrugged and nodded at her.

"Well, I thank you for being willing to honour me with your bonds," Hermione said politely, picking up a little of elven customs. "I would be happy to bond with all of you."

The elves squealed and bounced a little, eager to have her as a new mistress. Helgy was calmer than the other, and quickler took Hermione through the steps of the elvish bond magic. It was similar to a blood bond, but she bled while the elves didn't. That was better than vice-versa, in her opinion. She needed a house name which would be written with her blood on the elves chests, then activated by elf-magic.

She carefully let Sirius cut her palm, as she was timid about causing herself that pain, and bled into a tiny bowl Kreacher had brought from the kitchen. When her wound was bandaged, she dipped two fingers into the bowl and then hesitated.

"Does it have to be Granger?" she asked, timidly. "Or can I pick my own house name?"

"House name is being picked by family back longtime," Helgy told her. "They is picking last names, but is not always. You cans be Mistress Granger no matter house name."

"Exactly," Sirius nodded. "For example, if you were to make it House Padfoot, just for example," he earned a well-timed laugh from Remus at his wink, "you would be Hermione Granger of the House of Padfoot, or Lady Padfoot. It's an honorific that the elves will use, and that will appear in the Ministry of Magic with your name."

"They keep track of elf bonds?" she asked now, really curious.

Sirius shook his head, his eyes mischievous. "Elves being bound to a new Mistress who has no formal house creates one such House in the archives of the Ministry, probably because of how they were enslaved in the first place. It's recorded in a book deep in the Ministry archives. If your bloodline has been elf-bound before, even if you have no elves currently, you still appear in the book as a magically recognized house. When you bond with your elves, I wouldn't be surprised if all of a sudden a new seat appears in the Wizegamot with your name on it. Fudge will have a meltdown."

"Wow," Hermione breathed. "So, if I do this, an elf in the Ministry of Magic will record what I pick as a formally recognized house, and I'll have a little bit of power?"

Sirius laughed. "Yes, kitten, more power than the likes of regular folk. So, pick a name that your children won't think is too lame, and that other purebloods won't hate you for, and mark your new elves."

Hermione hesitated. What could she call herself? She could use many magical things associated with her. Hermione Granger of … House Sidhe? House Link? That one was lame. Something individual to her, but cool enough to be a House for any sucessors. Her thoughts went to the coolest magic, the patronus. House of the Aethonan? Should she claim her house after a magical beast? No, that would be presumptuous. Maybe a deconstructed version of that, though. House of Horseflight? Farflight? Maybe it should be more obscure, like Aethon which not only was the name of one of Helios' horses, but also meant blazing, burning, or shining in ancient Greek. House of Aethon? Hermione Granger, of the House of Aethon.

When she had time, she'd train to turn into that form as well, so it would be appropriate as a name. She was the first matriarch of her house, after all.

"Missy must draw House now," Helgy insisted, motioning to her bowl of blood. "What is Missy to name House?"

"House Aethon," Hermione decided firmly. "How do I draw that?"

They had her draw the rune on their chests, one by one. When she finished drawing on Helgy, the elf let out a flurry of magic that invigorated Hermione considerably, starting to finalize the bond. She saw the blood sink into the elf's skin and, when it finally disappeared, a sharp harpoon of magic hurtling and sticking itself in her magic, an invisible tether she could now feel between her and the elf.

She continued to draw the runes on elf after elf, each time feeling the elf accept the rune on their chest within themselves as they bound themselves to her blood. When all the elves were bound to her, she let magic take the blood from her hand and the bowl and handed it back to KReacher with a small smile.

"Thank you, Kreacher," she said deferentially. "You honour me with your elf-kin."

Kreacher bowed happily before popping out of the room. Hermione turned to the elves hesitantly.

"I don't really know how to do this," she admitted to them. "Do I just … tell you what I want you to do?"

The elves nodded eagerly.

She looked to Sirius, who jumped up to her promptings. "Kitten, first thing you need to do is order them to secrecy. About anything they see or hear, and about the location of 12 Grimmauld Place."

"Right," she breathed out. "Frat, Gem, Helgy, Csara, you must never tell anyone about the Black home, 12 Grimmauld Place, or reveal its location. Whatever you know about me and my magic, or you see, overhear, or learn about is secret. You can never reveal anything about me except to introduce my name, and if Professor Snape needs anything. Understood?"

The elves nodded eagerly.

"Alright," she nodded thoughtfully. "Also, call me Hermione or Mistress Hermione. No calling me Missy Mudblood or even Mistress. Okay?"

"Yes, Mistress Hermione."

She smiled at the tiny elves, and grinned. "Alright. Csara, I order you to stay here and obey Sirius' orders until I call for you. Helgy, Frat, Gemm, I want you to go to Hogwarts and talk to the, er nest mother? and ask if you can stay at Hogwarts. Tell her I'm more than happy to lend you to any tasks around the castle, alright?"

Helgy and the twins nodded. "Yes, Mistress Hermione. We goes now?"

She was about to say yes, but then remembered Severus. "Um, actually, before you go, Helgy, can you go find Professor Snape and bring him to me?"

"Yes Mistress!" Helgy popped out of existence quickly, leaving them alone.

Remus put his hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Are you sure you should have done that? Severus has a violent temper. He might now be ready to talk to you, yet, and I'd hate to see him use your apprenticeship over you."

"There will be hell in the classroom if I don't apologize." Not to mention the fact that she couldn't bear to be the cause of his anger. "I'll be fine. Sirius, Remus, can you leave me alone with him?"

Sirius frowned down at her. "You'll keep the elves nearby?"

She rolled her eyes. "Severus wouldn't hurt me, Sirius. I'm sure I'll be completely fine."

He nodded, then turned to Csara. "Csara, do you want your first order?"

"Yes, Master Black," she nodded.

"Kreacher hasn't been well enough to keep house, so we have so many rooms that need cleaning and organizing. Want to start in the kitchen?"

"Yes Master Black!" Csara jumped into the air and popped out of the room, earning laughter from all three sorcerers.

Saying her farewells to the packmates and accepting Sirius' thanks for healing him and Kreacher, she waited in the room with Gemm and Frat, the male twins, and waited for Helgy to come back with her mate and master. It only took a few more moments before Helgy popped back into the room with a violently angry Severus.

"Miss Granger, who is this?" Severus motioned to the house elf. "I am not someone you can summon at your leisure."

"Severus, meet Helgy, Frat, and Gemm," she motioned to each house-elf in order. "Kreacher's elf-kin and my new house-elves. Don't argue, the bond is already made. Elves, go to Hogwarts and talk to the nest-mother. I'll call you when I return."

They bowed and popped out, leaving her with her irate Master.

There was silence for only moment before Severus's anger got the best of him. "Well? Did you have a reason for my summons?"

She stood from her place on the floor and approached her upset Potion's Master. It wasn't exactly expected, but she knew he craved physical affection when he was angry, although it usually wasn't at her, so she took him into a hug.

"I want to apologize." The stillness was unbearable. "Severus, you know I would never speak to you that way if we were alone. I didn't know Sirius would make fun of you. Can you forgive me?"

She looked up to her mate and saw his waning anger. So she leaned up, took his face in her hands, and brought his face down for a soft, comforting kiss. His mouth was hesitant at first, but it was soft and overwhelmingly appealing to her hormones. There was nothing she wanted more than him.

He responded after a moment, taking comfort in her touch the way she knew he needed. He pulled her body against her, needing the full body contact of chests, hips, legs close or entwined. She loved his need for affection, considering it one of the best chinks in his infallible armor. Then, when it became too overwhelming to ignore the call to finalize their bond, Hermione pulled away, her breathing ragged and pleased. Severus gave her a smirk.

"I like your apologies," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "You are forgiven, love."

Her heart stopped. "Love?"

The ease of his expression switched to nervous anxiety. "I'm sorry, I assumed, well, assumed – nevermind."

He turned away, and Hermione gained focus again. He loved her. He'd all but admitted it.

"I love you, you know," she told him softly. "If you don't want to say it back, that's fine, but I know what my feelings are."

Severus turned to her with a shocked look on his face, terror and surprise morphed together into a great look of amazement and curiousity. Then, without warning, she was pulled into another kiss.

"I love you, little witch," he murmured against her. "Gods help me, I do."

* * *

 **Well, that took a bit to perfect. I think I like how it turned out, did you? Thanks to all the reviewers and followers who encourage me to flex my creative brain muscles every week. Keep up the reviews, the guesses, the predictions, and the encouragement!**


	31. Chapter 31

**Hey guys! So, in this chapter Hermione is going to seem fairly Mary Sue in her powers, but with what I established she can do and what I believe of lycanthropy in my little AU I couldn't just have a normal full moon with her. I have another chapter going that I might post tomorrow or Thursday, though, so you won't suffer for long this time!**

 **Thank you all so much for the reviews and favourites and follows. Reviews especially. Whenever I read a review I get really happy-excited, and people trying to understand plot points or guess for the future really get my creative juices you, thank you!**

Chapter 31

* * *

Dumbledore had taken the contract from her the moment she returned to Hogwarts, with the warning that she not let Umbridge know where she'd been. She was at every meal after that, presenting herself as per his instructions so the pink profiterole could see her in attendance. The Weasley twins tried to prank hers or the Slytherins food every meal, so she was happily not the focus of her ire in any situation.

She spent the week close to Severus once again. Hard as she tried, they were progressing physically and beyond her control. Small kisses escalated to make-outs, make-outs to being pressed against a desk or workbench, and from there she'd have to push him away in order to keep her magic in control. Severus understood that part, at least, but she avoided telling him about the bond forming between them and her need to finalize it. She also refused to talk about her female reproductive properties with him – it didn't matter how close they were, that would be an awkward conversation.

Madame Pomphrey's research went just as well as hers – suppressing vela-esque hormones were possible, but not the body's preparedness to mate. Most parents of veelas or part-veelas simply kept them on hormone-suppressants, which wouldn't help with the magical compulsion to bond with Severus that came from being a link witch, thriving on bonds.

That was something she'd learned more about this week as well – her bonds with the house-elves were alive, thriving, and very much invigorating. Her magical strength grew with every bond she had at her disposal.

"Do you feel it too?" She'd asked Helgy one day. "The strength?"

"House-elves be happy when they feels it from great Mistress," Helgy affirmed. "House-elves be best with many family under bonds, true, but one bond with great witch be plenty for us. Is why we bond with magic-humans. Bonds give strength, happiness to elf-kind."

"Same as with me?" Hermione guessed.

Helgy nodded. "Yes, Mistress is special. Much like elf, but stronger."

That gave way to a whole new set of questions, but she got no more information on her magic from the elf. Still, it was something new that she now knew, and she included it in her letters to Mrs. Oswin, wondering if she had ever bonded with elves or anything like that.

Sirius snuck into the school the second day of the full moon. It was clearly done without consulting Dumbledore, but he came around noon and waltzed right into the open Potions classroom door in his shaggy, black dog form, startling Harry who was there early once again to see her. Ron was somewhere else, with Neville and some other Gryffindor boys, and she'd never been more grateful. Without a second thought, she threw wards at the door and shut it firmly closed and locking it with a _colloportus_ before turning her wand on Sirius.

"Human, please," she requested kindly of the animagus, despite feeling stressed by his sudden appearance. He transformed to human and his appearance was shocking. He was clearly exhausted – eyes bloodshot, bags purple and sagging, his expression feeble – but he still seemed happy to be there, turning to brandish a smile at his godson.

"Sirius!" Harry launched himself into his godfather's arms, grabbing at him tightly. Hermione softened slightly at the joy of her friend at seeing him. "I missed you."

"Aren't you excitable," he smiled. "I missed you too, Bambi, but I didn't expect to see you here."

"Fifth year Gryffindors have potions after lunch nearly every day," Hermione informed him primly. "And no matter what, you would have had to meet someone on the way here at least. You're so reckless! What are you doing here, Sirius? I saw you literally three days ago!"

Sirius sighed and released Harry. "It's Remus, kitten. First moon was last night."

"Remus?" Harry gasped.

"You need potions? Does he need healing?" Hermione rattled of potions options in her head to regenerate the wolf, most of which they had in stock and the others could be brewed within a few hours.

Sirius shook his head. "It's not that. Well, he is hurt a little, but no worse than normal. No, the problem is … worse. He nearly ran into a muggle village last night, even with the Wolfsbane. It took a lot of work to keep him from getting sighted."

Hermione felt the shock show on her face before schooling her features. "The Wolfsbane should have been perfect. I it myself this month, and it was the perfect colour and consistency."

"It wasn't because the Wolfsbane failed, little Kitten," Sirius said with a frown. "He woke up this morning and remembered everything. He wasn't heading to the village for food, Hermione, he was travelling to the pull of his _pack_. He was coming for you. I think he needs you with him for the rest of the moon."

"Absolutely NOT!"

Severus Snape whipped out of the side corridor to his office, glaring murderously at Sirius as if he had suggested she date _him_ or something.

"Miss Granger is not approaching a fully-transformed, volatile _werewolf_ during the _full_ moon, as a _human_ ," he enunciated the important words venomously, earning a glare from Sirius. "Especially when he's showing abnormal behaviour patterns."

"Werewolves don't hurt pack," Sirius protested angrily. "This is important, _Snape_. Remus could be exposed, or hurt!"

Snape glowered, but Harry interrupted. She had been observing the confusion on his face for the past minute, and now it seemed she would get his questions.

"Wait, Hermione is … pack? Like my dad was?" Harry interjected, looking between Sirius and her for more information.

Hermione shook her head, but Sirius undermined her quickly. "Yes, she's pack just like I am."

"Except for he made _that_ bond willingly," Hermione quipped uncomfortably. "Really, Remus could hate me, but Moony would have made me pack anyways."

"He loves you, Kitten," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Touching."

Sirius turned to glare at the dour Potions Master. "Snivel away, Snape. She can come visit Moony if she wants to."

"You mean if you've managed to guilt her into this dangerous endeavour?" Severus ground out. "No, she cannot. Miss Granger is my apprentice, and I say she is not leaving the grounds."

He turned on his heel and swished out of the room, his cloak trailing behind him. Hermione watched him go sadly, knowing that he was worried he really wouldn't be able to keep her from going.

"Snape still is as dramatic as he used to be," Sirius said loudly, as if to follow him out of the room. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. "What?"

"Stop it," she ordered firmly. "I don't care what your childhood trauma is with each other, but if I'm pack you treat what I care for with respect. That means Sev-Professor Snape."

Her slip didn't go unnoticed this time. Harry gaped. "Severus? You call him Severus?"

Sirius looked disgusted at the thought, inciting her wrath all the further.

"Yes, I call him by his first name in private," Hermione hissed at both of them. " _Severus_ is my friend, both of you. He is a good man, and if I have to listen to you disrespect him every time I hang out I will end up hexing someone. Understood?"

Sirius looked like he'd seen a ghost, while Harry looked confused.

"You looked so much like Lily right then," Sirius commented softly, his eyes sad. "She used to yell at James and us for going after him too, you know."

"Really?" Harry looked up at Sirius with hope. "My mom was like Hermione?"

Sirius laughed. "Lily was smart, but not that smart. Hermione would annoy your mom to bits. No, just … just when Hermione defended Sniv- er, Snape, it was uncanny."

Hermione sighed. It explained why Severus didn't feel ready to talk about Lily yet – if she bore even a slight resemblance to her, he probably would think she would feel like a second-hand replacement. And until he denied it, Hermione knew she'd feel that way.

"Okay, that's enough nostalgia for today," Hermione took control of the conversation. "Sirius, I will talk to Severus and will meet you at Grimmauld Place after classes end today. Harry, if you have any questions, I'll answer them later but right now I need to go deal with Sirius. Alright?"

Both nodded.

"Good," she grabbed Sirius by the arm and started to drag him along to the office.

Sirius had been flooed to Grimmauld Place and she'd helped Severus with the final three classes of the day. When the final class exited, he swished his wand and the door slammed violently shut. He rounded on her.

"You are not going." They had started this conversation the moment Sirius had left, but Hermione wouldn't budge.

"Remus needs me, so I'm going," she said as matter-of-factly as possible. "I'll be perfectly safe."

He was afraid she would be hurt, that she would end up killed. Ridiculous man, but Hermione understood why he was so concerned. His stiff posture, his refusal to move to her side oreven truly look at her showed he was afraid to lose her.

To comfort him, she wrapped him up in her arms and kissed the base of his neck, the only part of his face she could really reach. "Moody taught me how to subdue a werewolf, Bill taught me wards to set up so I can be safe, and Sirius believes the pack bond will keep him from hurting me. There's very little risk, Severus."

"You'd be safer here, with me," Severus insisted. "Or if I could just come with you …"

He'd tried this argument earlier, saying he'd feel better if he could be there to subdue Remus.

"You know why that's a bad idea," Hermione pointed out. "You're not pack, Severus, and Fenrir Greyback is still looking for him. If he manages to find him this moon, he's going to report to Voldemort. Especially if you let me be there. I'm sorry, but I need to go alone."

After a long conversation, Severus had only agreed to let her go if she set herself up in a complex ward Bill had taught her that was so intricate it was recharged weekly to protect the vaults. He even sacrificed his dragon blood stocks so she could do it.

So she flooed to Grimmauld Place. Her promise to Severus was to set up a ward circle, so she needed to have Sirius take her to Moony ahead of time. She should actually make two or three different warded zones, in case they moved during the night. He wasn't in the sitting room, so she moved to the kitchen in hopes of catching him.

Eventually, she found him shirtless, hanging half-on-half-off the bed in the master bedroom, fast asleep. She waved her hand at the animagus and a pebble formed out of the air to pelt him in the bottom that was on the edge of the bed. He yelped and wakened instantly, making her laugh hysterically.

"Oi!" he whirled on her, rubbing his left buttcheek. "Couldn't you just yell like Molly?"

Hermione giggled. "I have to test out my magic, you know."

Sirius glared humorously before yanking himself from the bed and pulling on a shirt that was crumpled on the floor. Hermione gave him a disapproving scowl, but was only met with a roguish grin.

"Problem, kitten?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a slob."

He clutched his heart dramatically. "You wound me, Granger, _wound_ me. I am but an old man stuck in his ways."

"You're as much an old man as I am a belly dancer," Hermione countered. "Now, come on, you're taking me to Remus."

Sirius apparated her through his family wards to a older-looking stone hunting lodge, one story and L-shaped, covered in ivy. Grimmauld Place was quiet, but had nothing on this place. The entire setting was peaceful in every way Grimmauld Place wasn't: small bird chirping and wind rustling through the trees made it less than silent, but tranquil; no neighbours giving the illusion of closeness while emphasizing isolation, only true solitude; and, most importantly, nothing screamed dark magic the way it had when Hermione allowed her magic to wander. It was rejuvenating to her.

Since Sirius already had seen her recharging her magic, she barely hesitated before kicking off her boots and socks. She relished in the sweet tingle of her magic, the little dance it did as it connected with her environment.

"What is that, by the way?" Sirius asked, pulling her from her reverie. "The … glowing."

"My superpower," she grinned. Her grin faded at the confused look on Sirius' face. "Oh, er, it's just a special thing I can do. My magic's a little different from yours, Sirius."

"Yeah, got that from last time," he grinned. "But, like, what does it do?"

"It's refreshing me," she told him, walking towards the cabin now. "It's … like a better version of the pepper-up potion."

"Wicked!" Sirius exclaimed. "How do you do it?"

"Er, it's not something I think can be taught, Sirius," she said haltingly. "I mean, I do it naturally, ever since I turned seventeen. I'm not really … I'm not a normal witch. It's probably why Remus bonded with me. I used my magic on him at Halloween to help him, to comfort him, and his wolf must be closely linked to his magic and felt my interference. I mean, that, or the way I connect with nature includes animals. I don't really know, but it just shows you how different and .., weird I am."

Sirius scoffed. "Kitten, you are in a pack with a man who lived with Dementors and a werewolf. Weird is practically a requirement. I mean, even James had his weird Bertie Botts collection."

"Collection?" she commented, incredulous.

"Oh yeah," Sirius confirmed excitedly. "He had a poster with every flavour of Bertie's on it he had found. But he never knew until he bit into the bean what flavour it would be, so the only beans he stuck to the board had a bite off the end of 'em. Trust me, kitten, we only take weird in our little group."

She was laughing at him as they entered the cottage, but it was quickly brought to an end as she took in the sad state of Remus, who was shirtless and stretched over the lodge's couch. She knew it was normal, even with the wolfsbane, for werewolves to occasionally scratch themselves upon transformation, but Remus had clearly had a rougher night than that. Her magic instantly went to him, seeking to heal him, and her body followed.

She knelt by his side and touched a piece of unblemished skin, feeling for the wolf and man. He stirred as Hermione brushed her magic through his, prompting his to do as hers did whenever she recharged. His magic was weak from transforming, and Hermione needed to pump her own energies into his system in order to feel even slightly alright with his condition. Together, their magic brushed through his system, revitalizing and healing him.

His eyes were now wide open, looking at her as she pushed her magic through his system. She watched as the years of scars on his torso healed and fixed themselves, sinking into his skin, alongside the repairing slices.

"What-?" Remus murmured, stretching his body away from her hand. "Hermione?"

"Hey, it's alright," she tried to comfort the man. "Sirius brought me."

It took a moment for Lupin to fully realize what was happening. He covered his chest with his hand before realizing that the scabs weren't there anymore. "What – you healed me?"

She nodded and Sirius wolf-whistled behind them, drawing Remus' gaze.

"Moony, you look hot!" Sirius barked. "Kitten here is a little miracle worker."

Hermione flushed and gave Moony an apologetic grimace. "I don't know if Tonks liked the scars, Remus, but I couldn't heal you without healing them too. I hope you weren't attached."

Remus gaped, then quickly scrambled to the bathroom. Hermione and Sirius exchanged a look before rushing after him. They found him staring, disbelieving, at the mirror reflection of his face and fingering the place wear the prominent facial scars once were.

"How …?"

Hermione could feel the deep-seated shock in his magic, but it was started to fade and let her feel the true underlying emotion; Remus was happy.

"Remus, it's no big deal," Hermione said pre-emptively.

"No big deal?" he said incredulously, turning to look at her. "They were werewolf injuries, Hermione! Even dittany doesn't work on them, and you just healed every single one I've had since I was a child. It is a huge deal, Hermione!"

She flushed and looked at her feet. "Well, er, good. Glad I could help. I'll just … I need to set up a safezone, so-"

"You're staying for the moon?" Remus demanded. He looked at Sirius angrily. "Sirius!"

"What?" Sirius raised his hands innocently. "You know it will help."

"She is not staying!" Remus growled. "She's not even an animagus!"

"That doesn't matter with pack!" Sirius defended angrily. "Let her help Remus!"

"No," the werewolf growled.

Hermione waved his attention to her. "I'm pretty good with wards, Remus. I'll be perfectly alright; it's you I'm worried about. Sirius said you nearly went into a muggle town looking for me?"

Remus looked so distraught, all she wanted was to give him a hug and tell him it was alright. The thought of nearly endangering anyone was clearly tormenting him. Knowing him as she did, even for the short time she did, she knew the fear of losing control of his wolf would keep him from accepting her help.

His eyes seemed to sadden in understanding. He looked away from her.

"Hermione, you shouldn't let my lycanthropy affect your life," he sighed. "Yes, you're … _pack_. But it wasn't your choice, and I don't expect you to be here. This happens every month, and I can't ask you to do that for me."

"Remus, you need my here and I'm happy to help," she pressed, taking his hand firmly. "I had no plans for tonight or tomorrow, and so I'll be here. What you need to do is accept that I'm here, agree that I'm quick enough to protect myself, and take me outside to where you transform so I can set a warded area without you throwing a hissy fit about it."

Sirius barked a laugh at my words, but Remus just got angry. I realized that his wolf wasn't happy with my confrontational tone and quickly dropped my eyes to the ground in submission and sent my magic out to calm the man and his wolf.

"Please, Remus? Let me?"

The softness of her request did the trick. Remus growled his acquiescence and took her out to the yard. He led her deeper into the woods so the wolf wouldn't destroy the cottage. It was an area of woods marked only by a bag hanging high in a tree, probably the spare clothing for Remus after he'd transformed.

She went to work immediately. Since she only needed to protect herself, she set up a series of blood-keyed wards within a square mile of the transformation. All she needed to do was step into an area and she'd have a ward pop up around her.

The only issue was that, if Remus moved away, she'd have to run after him and somehow beat him to a warded zone. Sirius would also be unable to enter her wards, so if Remus lost control there was a chance he would be in danger and she'd be forced to intervene.

Remus and Sirius stayed with her through the preparations. Remus, with his Defense training, was actually helpful in etching the runic systems into the stones she was burying in the warded zones to add enough strength to the blood wards to handle a full ramming from a werewolf. Because of her pack bond with Remus, though, she needed to be both fully visible and able to be scented by him. He needed to smell her to believe she was there, Sirius had told her, and Remus confirmed it. It was what kept him from killing Sirius every moon. Visually, he would attack anything on sight, but the magical bond mixed with the scent was enough to keep him from attacking.

"But my scent will be human," she pointed out.

Remus sighed. "It's complicated. I need to scent you to know you're not a threat and that you're really there, but you're right that your human scent will be … difficult to be around. It's the smell of a threat, and so I attack to defend my territory. Please, stay within the wards. Your pack bond with me should be enough, but if I lose control of my instincts I can't have you hurt."

Hermione nodded and agreed. With the wards set up, they sat in the clearing and waited together for the moon. Remus was more down than was probably normal because of her presence, but Sirius was on top of it. They reminisced about Hogwarts, talked about Remus' love life (although Tonks was off limits because of her 'cousin' status), and asked Hermione to show them more magic.

She hadn't really practiced the herbology powers she'd learned from Mrs. Oswin since her last visit, but she decided to give it a try.

She stretched her hand over their grassy sitting area and specifically felt for their individual blades of energy, the inherent magic that seemed to stretch throughout all matter. She pushed the magic around, testing the push and pull of power between her and the natural order of the matter, before taking it and forcing it further than it would naturally. The grass grew longer, ever longer, and curled around them into a nest-like shape.

"Wow!" Sirius startled her from her meditation and the grass faltered with her. She let it halt its growth as he started to press on her cushiony creation. He turned into a dog and rolled around in her grassy bed, barking happily to the surrounding group.

Remus smiled at her and Sirius, and she was glad to see his heart lifting.

"Is Moony happy, with me here?" With a tilt of his head and a small grin, she knew he was. "Do you think he'll run off tonight? I'm not as fast as you and Sirius, and I'll probably fall behind if I have to chase you down."

"Do not follow," Remus told her warningly. "Me running off with Sirius is fine compared to killing you."

"Not if you're going to go expose yourself, or if Greyback finds you," Hermione pointed out. At the reminder, Remus stiffened. "Any sign of him this month?"

He shook his head. "No, not here. We've started moving every month, keeping to the woods. Dora has been watching the house every moon, but he hasn't been back there. We just don't know what he's up to."

She laid her hand comfortingly on his. "Don't worry, Remus. Even if you're in wolf form, I can keep you safe."

"If it comes to that – and it _won't_ – I want you to apparate away." He was serious, and Hermione went to protest. "No, there's no debating this Hermione. If Fenrir finds me, this month, next month, a year from now and tries to take me or kill me, you _leave_. You go alert the Order, and get yourself far from danger. And bring Sirius with you. Is that clear?"

"I'm not going to just leave," Hermione protested. "I've been trained, Remus, and I can fight. And if I can't, I can use my powers or something."

"Me neither." Sirius turned back from his doggy form to glare at Remus. "You don't really think I'd leave my best friend behind, would you? I'm not coward, Moons."

Remus groaned and raked a hand through his hair in frustration. "You're missing the point! Greyback kills every-"

Remus let out a low groan, and Hermione looked up to the sky. The moon was just coming over the horizon, the final edge of the sphere coming into view. She moved back, taking up into her wards as Sirius turned back his grim form.

Remus was shifting.

For a moment, the pain and dark magic he exhuded overwhelmed Hermione's magic. She cried out and fell to her knees, almost going through it with him. Her magic flew from her on its own, taking all the dark magic it could from Remus to spare her the emotional agony of his pain.

It was tangible, unlike Sirius' and Kreacher's, the dark magic she was pulling from Lupin. It was part of his blood, and so it came with that violent red colouring. She screamed as she took it into her own body involuntarily, only able to focus on her pain and not on what was happening around her.

Then, with a final scream, her own pain destroyed the dark magic as settled around her and banished it to the moon that was calling it. Her hands went to the grassy area, the gold sheen of her magic mixed with that of the earth to overcome the overwhelming tiredness of her body. She thought she might still pass out even with the energy coming towards her, but it managed to keep her conscious.

Her body at rights, she was amazed to find she couldn't feel any more terror, pain, or dark magic from Remus. Quickly looking up, she found herself face to face with, not a werewolf, but a regular wolf. His body was no longer half-human and terrible, but fully wolf-like.

"Remus?"

* * *

She worried into the morning hours about what her magic had done. The trust she had in her magic, that whatever it did was for the best, was shaken. Had it turned Remus into a real-life wolf? Would he ever be able to turn back? She tried to reassure herself that all transfiguration had its limit, and Remus' was no exception, but her magic had yet to show any signs of having the same natural limits as others. She could have turned him to a wolf for life. What would Tonks do to her when she found out?

Remus and Sirius rested together somberly, their normal playfulness abated by the seriousness of the situation and the uncertainty of morning. Any attemtp she made to check on Remus, to see if he was alright or even still in there was thwarted by them both, who pushed her into her warded area. She was left with not choice but to monitor with her magic only.

Finally, the moon began to set with the rising sun. Remus was lucky that this month it wasn't setting later in the morning, she thought. She braced herself, ready for the pain of him transforming back, or the realization that nothing happened.

Neither came. She watched in fascination as Remus went through a painless transformation, turning quickly from a wolf to the healed man of yesterday. It took them all a moment to breathe in relief, and several more for Remus to stare at his hands as if not believing they were there, before Hermione lowered her wards and approached the pair of friends.

"Remus?" she murmured, checking him over with her magic carefully, but not finding anything. "Are you al-"

She didn't even get through a full sentence before she was in Remus' arms while he sobbed over her shoulder. His desperate gratitude flooded through every ounce of her magic, and before she knew it her own tears started to leak and she was desperately hugging him too.

"Thank you, thank you," Remus breathed.

"Remus, I don't understand," she said, pulling away to look up at him. She wiped her own tears away with a sniffle. "What happened?"

"I don't know, but the pain was gone!" Lupin laughed.

Sirius shifted back to human form and came to hug Hermione too, though she was in too much a state of shock. "Hey, Remus, do you think you could switch without the moon?"

"No idea?" he shrugged, but happy enough to give it a try. Sirius told him to focus on the feeling he had when he was shifting back to human, only to focus on the wolf side. Remus concentrated and immediately shifted back into his wolf.

Sirius laughed at Hermione's shocked expression. "Alright, mate, try to be human now. Think of something human, like walking on two legs, or talking."

He popped back to human instantly, excitedly panting. "That. Was. Incredible! I'm an ANIMAGUS! I can be an ANIMAGUS!"

He decided to demonstrate by jumping up and turning, mid-jump, into the same wolf he was before moonrise.

"What?" Hermione gaped as Remus turned back, this time entirely on his own. "You're, what, in control?"

"Entirely," Remus beamed. "Hermione, I … I didn't even feel any pain this morning. I don't know how, but you just … the worst parts of my transformation are gone. I might no even transform next month!"

Hermione flushed. "You probably will, but … I didn't really do anything, Remus. My magic just … reacted. It was like the dark magic in Sirius last week. It _was_ dark magic, and I just … removed it."

Sirius gaped. "What, so lycanthropy started out as a dark curse?"

Remus' eyes lit up in understanding, going through everything he knew in his head, most likely.

"Maybe," Hermione murmured grimly. "Who knows how it started, right? I haven't felt it on Remus before, so it's only activated by the moon. Chances are, if it is a dark curse, it was performed under that specific lunar phase and became somehow linked to it. If true … werewolves aren't creatures at all, they are curse victims. Has anyone looked into it as a curse?"

Lupin shook his head. "It's always been creatures, at least in the texts me and my, er, dad looked at. Some thought it was an infection, but that never came up with anything either."

Sirius growled. "So one prick started this? One person doing one curse, and it just … spread?"

She shrugged. It certainly felt like a blood curse, not that she'd come across one yet. But she couldn't even think of another explanation for what she felt.

"Dumbledore," Sirius said quickly. "We need to go show him, get him to take a look at Remus. He'll know what happened."

"Maybe," Hermione replied doubtfully. "I have a friend I can ask, but I don't know if she's ever been around a wolf for the full moon before."

"Someone like you?" Remus questioned immediately.

Hermione hesitated. Technically, no one was supposed to know of her friend's existence. At this point, though, Remus was the priority. Lycanthropy was not a good condition to have, and if she could get those who had it treated like curse victims instead of beasts it would go a long way towards their human rights. So, she gave them a brief nod but refused to say anymore.

Dumbledore was fascinated in the change, as they expected, but she didn't expect him to call Severus up to meet with them. Oh, she was in for it with him, she knew.

"Why was I summoned?" Severus swept into the Headmaster's office with his usual disdain. He glared at her. "Of course, my apprentice got herself in to trouble. Why am I surprised?"

"Severus, it's not that," Remus defended her quickly, stepping in front of her as if to protect her. "We want your opinion on something."

"I'll deal with you endangering her later, Lupin," he growled, shoving the man out of the way. He pulled Hermione up and looked her over, inspecting her from arm. "You seem unharmed. So what did you do, Miss Granger?"

She gulped. "I may have – involuntarily, mind you – cured lycanthropy?"

Severus raised a thin brow in incredulity.

"When I say cure, what I mean is broke the curse," she corrected. "I think it was a dark blood curse, but I couldn't really focus when I did it. It was so painful, I couldn't think straight, and then it just-"

"You were in pain?" He demanded.

She grimaced. "You're missing the point. Remus turned into a wolf, not a werewolf. And then, when the moon went away, he could turn back into it. We don't know if he'll turn next moth, but if he does then _that_ would be the original werewolf form, not the one we're used to seeing."

"For now, Severus, could you see if Remus' saliva contains the contaminant?" Dumbledore interjected then. "We need to establish if its still a transferable condition."

Severus gritted his teeth but nodded and reached into his robes for the emergency vial he always kept on his person. He thrust it at Lupin roughly. "Spit, Lupin. As much as you can."

When they finished consulting with Dumbledore, she said goodbye to her pack and followed the angry Severus down to his dungeon quarters. The moment they'd closed the doors behind them, he attacked.

His lips were on hers, consuming her with ever suckle and every rasped breath against her mouth. His tongue swiped and tasted her, and she sucked on his in an exciting gesture of more to come. He groaned against her and pressed her up against the nearest wall, causing all thought to fly out the window.

"Severus," she moaned, "we need – oh – to stop."

He nodded but took a moment to suck a hickey onto her neck before releasing her. His eyes smoldered into hers in a dark possessiveness.

"I worried all night," he told her, bring her attention to the bags under his eyes. "And then you go and make my magic flare early on, worrying me even more. You know what it did to me last time you were in pain, and then you go and pain yourself further by foolhardily taking on the world's problems."

"It's done, I'm fine, and Remus is really happy," Hermione murmured, kissing his cheek. The bonding magic was surrounding her, daring her to get close to him. She stayed chaste in her own movements, waiting for the magic to calm down. "You didn't need to worry, Severus. I am a formidable witch."

He scoffed. "Yes, _in theory_. You haven't had much of a chance to test yourself in combat. You are still young, Hermione."

"I didn't do it on purpose, Severus," she sighed. "The bond I made with Remus makes my magic very … protective of him. It felt his pain and immediately tried to fix it. I wouldn't have even guessed I could do something like this. I always thought there was a limit to magic."

"There are," he affirmed. "However, apparently, curing lycanthropy is now not one of them."

His smirk made her heart flutter, and she knew she was forgiven. She pecked him briefly on the lips. "You should have slept."

He pursed his lips. "I would have, if the woman I love didn't feel the need to be at every person's beck and call."

"Well, then, I suppose it's my job to fix you," she replied primly, placing a hand on his skin. She funnelled a small amount of magical energy through to Severus, enough to revive him but not deplete herself. He smiled minutely under her hand. "Better?"

He huffed. "I was rather looking forward to having an excuse to dock Gryffindor today."

"I would kiss you better, but I'm afraid I'd jump you if I did," Hermione teased, sliding off the desk. "you have my thanks for the kindness I'm sure you're going to show my house today, though."

Normally, Severus would have huffed and made a sarcastic comment, either about her ' _dunderheaded_ ' classmates or the argument that he was perfectly fair in his point removal. This time, though, he just regarded her steadily, as if figuring out a puzzle.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" Hermione joked.

He shook his head. "No, you are stunning as ever. I was merely wondering if you still feel … less inclined to intimacy at this juncture. Your words say what you did not the last time we discussed it."

Hermione blushed. Only Severus could make her hot with such a clinical discussion on sex, and it wasn't even from their bond. It was all him.

"I may have stumbled upon more," she admitted gently. "It's … complicated, but it truly isn't about my desire for you, Severus. I do want you, and I would have, er, done it if I could right now. But it's not possible."

His eyebrows rose dramatically. "An impossibility? As far as I was concerned, we both have the necessary components to successfully … _copulate_."

Why did he make such a clinical word sound so dirty? It made Hermione shudder. "It's not that."

"Surely you can share with me?" he prodded gently, taking his hand in hers. "I am not trying to pressure you in any way, Hermione. If you wanted to wait until after the war, when I could properly court you, or if you wanted to wait until marriage out of sense of morality, I would understand and respect that. But I feel like something is bothering you about the intimacy we've shared thus far and I'd be remiss as your lover if I did not share your concern."

"I-I …" Hermione took a deep breath, coming at this again. "I had a check-up with Madame Pomphrey. Even if I took a contraceptive potion, or a muggle pill, it wouldn't work for me. There's a high chance that the first time we're, er, intimate, I'll end up pregnant. I haven't found a solution yet."

At her words, Severus' stiff posture melted to one of relief. "Is that all? Witch, you had me worried."

"I _am_ worried," she huffed at the grinning man. "The need to finalize our bond gets so strong, and if I gave in I'd be saddled with a baby. I'm supposed to be in my fifth year according to everyone else; there'd be a scandal! I'd have to end my apprenticeship, I couldn't brew … Why are you laughing?"

Severus was chuckling, but he promptly wrapped his arms around her to soothe her ire at him. "My sweet little witch, if you had told me sooner, I might not have attempted to seduce you on my desk today."

Her heart fluttered. "You were _what_?"

"I have a beautiful younger witch as my partner," he murmured, eyes intense. "Why wouldn't I want her to desire me as much as I do her?"

"Severus," she breathed, suddenly overwhelmed, "of course I want you. Don't think like that. You are intense, passionate, and actually quite handsome. Especially when you smile." His lips twitched upwards. "If anything, I should worry you wouldn't want me. I mean, I'm just your know-it-all apprentice."

Severus captured his mouth in hers before she could continue, lightly reminding her of his stance. She melted into his tender kiss, falling more and more for the man as he learned to show her affection.

"Does that quiet your worries?" he murmured.

"Absolutely," she sighed. "You're getting too good at that."

"Such happens when you practice," he chuckled. "Care to practice some more?"


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

* * *

The next day, Hermione returned to the forest where Remus was set to transform for the last time that month. And he did. The full moon induced his transformation the same as always, but this time it was painless for him and took to the wolf form instead of the misshapen half-human terror. It was obvious to them that there was a sort of wolf-person who had been cursed mid-transformation to lose their mind and become a monster, and that this was the true werewolf form.

Remus was so excited about it that he promptly left them the next morning to go the Tonks, making Sirius groan with their icky romance. Hermione felt more like a part of the pack than anything when they accompanied Remus to his home where Tonks was staking out for Fenrir. Watching as Remus ran up to her and kissed her, inhibitions gone, and then ask her if he could date her made Hermioen feel like she had actually become friends with these two older men. They reminded her so much of Harry and Ron, only a bit more mature. Severus would probably have groaned at her thoughts, but she couldn't help it.

Finally, Friday night, she turned herself back twelve hours to go into the wee hours of the morning, eager for her first day with the goblins. Grabbing the five liters of ritually-consecrated water she'd made that week and putting it in her satchel, she headed up to the Headmaster's office.

She rounded the corner to the Griffin statue when she heard that horrible, soul-clenching noise.

" _Hem hem_."

Umbridge was standing in front of me, happily taking in my tensing face and faltered steps.

"Going somewhere, Apprentice Granger?" she asked with saccharine in her voice. "And so far from the dungeons?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm meeting with the Headmaster," Hermione tried to seem confident, not letting on that there were two of her running around the place. "If you're hoping to see him, I won't be too long."

"Does your Master know?" she asked with concern. "I can't imagine any meeting with the Headmaster where your Master shouldn't be present. You and Dumbledore wouldn't be hiding things from the rest of us, would you?"

She was probing for something, and Hermione couldn't tell exactly what. It could have been just for anything on Dumbledore, but it could also be specifically geared against her and finding out her secrets. She'd been carefully with the Time-Turner, but if Umbridge ever say it she would be in substantial trouble, even if the DA Professor had no idea about the other magic she was hiding. No matter what Umbridge was after, everything was suspect from her.

"P-professor Snape is busy preparing for classes today," Hermione cursed her stutter and forced herself to be more confident and composed. "He, of course, knows where I am, but this meeting is simply to discuss why my last payment didn't get to my account at Gringotts. It wasn't necessary for him to come with me."

Umbridge harrumphed at her plausible explanation. "Well, I'll just head to see the dear Severus now, then, and go over the preparations with him."

"I'll come straight back once I'm finished with the Headmaster," Hermione promised with saccharine sweetness. "Goodbye, Professor Umbridge."

At least her 12-hours-younger self was still in bed, so Umbridge wouldn't see her for another thirty minutes. She remembered seeing Umbridge that morning, but it was unremarkable. That gave her some peace of mind. She climbed up the griffin steps and knocked at the Headmaster's door.

"Come in!"

"Express to Gringotts?" Hermione called, sticking her head through the door. Albus chuckled and nodded her in. "You know Professor Umbridge is lurking outside your office, right?"

"I know everything, Apprentice Granger," Dumbledore expressed with a wink. Still, the wink was followed with a frowning sigh. "Unfortunately, Dolores seems to labour under the same misconception as Fudge, that I am hiding some sort of weapon or army within the school's wards. She has been keeping an eye on me since she arrived in the hopes of bringing such news to our fearful Minister."

"Ridiculous," she scoffed. "You don't need a weapon, you have me."

That earned a true laugh from the Headmaster, making Hermione's spirit's a lot lighter. "What are we doing about her?"

Dumbledore twinkled up at her. " _You_ will do nothing; there's enough on your plate as is. No, I'll handle the politics; you have an appointment with some goblins."

He held out a rolled-up scroll, sealed in the Dumbledore family crest and hopefully signed by the same man and her master. Hermione took it happily.

"What did you think about the goblin's offer to me?" she asked. "Does it seem … strange?"

He stroked his beard tentatively. "Impossible to say what is or is not strange with the goblins, as their customs are not our own. I do know that many of the goblin clans view wealth not as a way to power, but a way to protect their own. To give it up for a future apprentice would indicate they want your gratitude, if not your trust. It could be their way of ensuring your silence of what you learn, or it could be something more. Best to give them the benefit of the doubt and simply say they like the deal we're offering."

They shared a secret grin. It was nice to know that, at the very least, the goblins wanted her just as much as she wanted to be there.

"I also received a missive through my office from out mutual friend," Dumbledore added, handing her a second parchment. "You two seem determined to turn my into a mail service. I assume it is important?"

Hermione nodded and opened the parchment, eager for her words of advice.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _As I told you, I have never failed to finalize the bond with each of my partners. There was limited access to medical services during the war, and even less of a need when it was solely with regards to my own reproduction, and so I simply took a generic contraceptive potion. You are correct, that it didn't work and I was with child immediately._

 _That being said, it was in the middle of a war. I had my child and found a way to avoid that same fate in the future, even if I loved my son like no one before. Below you'll find the spell I created specifically for_ our _kind of magic to prevent pregnancy, but it will allow you to mix your essences to complete the bond. I apologize for not giving this to you sooner, but I know of your year-level and had hoped – vainly – that you would not be engaging in this so soon. I forgot how potent the unresolved bond could be, and for that I apologize. We should talk about your bonding soon, face-to-face. It's been too long since our last chat._

 _About your werewolf friend, I'm afraid I have no advice for you. I does sound like he was cursed, much like I have experienced with a few pureblood friends of mine. Regardless, you need to be careful about who knows of your capabilities. I recommend keeping this discovery to yourself until the end of the war._

 _If anything else comes up, feel free to write me once again._

 _Yours,_

 _Mrs. Oswin_

The post-script was the spell she was supposed to use, including movements and the intention behind it. It made her blush, but the comfort of having that simple phrase lifted her spirits measurably.

"Thank you, Headmaster."

With the roll of parchment in hand, she took the floopowder from Dumbledore's desk and went to the floo, eager to get to her first day of goblin orientation. Hermione smiled at the thought, but then remembered her warning. "Oh, and Headmaster, you should forgo your nightly walk. I have a feeling I will be in the crafting room all night."

"I should have known you'd notice," Dumbledore chuckled with the shake of his head. "Your magic has heightened your senses."

"No, you just have a very specific magic that's impossible to ignore," Hermione shot back. "Really, Headmaster, you can stop checking on me when I go to recharge. I've been fine so far, I'll be fine in the future; I can take care of myself."

"Of course, of course," he agreed with a twinkle. "Forgive this old man his worrying ways, but if something were to happen to you … well, you know. Now, you'd best be off. Wouldn't want to be late for your first day."

She popped into the alley and readjusted her robes. A part of her wished the library had more information on Goblins than just the Goblin Wars and basic Goobledegook, as she wanted to make a good impression on them. What was culturally appropriate for an Apprentice? Was it similar to pureblood customs, as Severus had taught her? It was that thought that had her covering her work clothes with a robe, just in case.

Tom waved at her over the bar and she grinned back, dropping a few knuts on the bar as a courtesy for using his floo. There was no time to socialize, though, as she hurried down the alley to Gringotts. It was still an impressive monument, looming over the alley impressively, and it amazed her that she would be coming here every other rotation for the weekends.

Her instructions were very simple; she was to present herself to Targnak with her signed contract in hand, he would introduce her to her master, and she'd begin her work with the goblins. However, seeing Targnak was more difficult that normal because of the hustle and bustle of Friday. It seemed as though everyone were depositing paychecks to the goblins this afternoon. She'd be standing in que for ages, she thought with a sigh.

"Hermione!"

She turned in the que to see Bill waving at her excitedly from behind the metal doors of the bank. He was motioning her to come over to him, and so, reluctantly, she gave up her position in the que to go greet the red-headed curse-breaker.

"Bill, this better be about me meeting Targnak, or you just made me go back fifteen minutes in the que," she huffed at the man.

Bill grinned at her. "Of course, fair lady, what else?" He opened the gate and ushered her through locking it behind her. "Targnak thought you might want your last fill of human interaction before you start your 'work'. Which is ..?"

He seemed to eye her with amused suspicion, as if he trusted her but still really wanted to know what was up. She rolled her eyes, but divulged nothing.

"Just here as part of my apprenticeship, Bill," she waved off his concern. The action reminded her of Severus, so she intentionally softened up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm just nervous."

"Eh, it's fine. The goblins are right terrifying sometimes." They stopped outside the unfamiliar doorway and Bill grinned at her. "Alright, here we are. Good luck."

He opened the doors and she saw four little goblins surrounding their larger leader. Bill closed the doors behind them as she approached the leader, leaving her with an ominous feeling.

" _Grishkna_ ," she bowed, extending the contract.

Targnak accepted it easily, and after ensuring the signatures were there handed it off to one of the smaller goblins who promptly took it from the room.

"Apprentice Granger," he grinned his toothy grin, "I suppose this is your formal welcome to Gringotts. Here are the three people you will interact with the most during your time here. One of our master blacksmiths, Kolkil."

She greeted the Master with a bow. The goblin was aged and scarred. He looked like he had entire wrinkles filled with black ash with how deep they were, but he still looked every bit the craftsman in his leather apron. "Master Kolkil. May I ask your title?"

The goblin grinned. "A witch who knows goblin manners. I am a _tilgnar_ in our tongue, meaning one of great standing or master. I am one of three _tilgnar_ in craft for our clan."

Hermione nodded, understanding. Goblins had a bit of a mobile caste system based on work-experience and accomplishment. There were four tiers to each specified work within the goblin nation, from the craftsmen to the warriors, and the highest of each speciality were named Masters … although, now that she knew, she'd be calling them _tilgnar_ at every chance to memorize it and not slip up.

"Thank you for taking me on, _tilgnar_ ," she said respectfully. She turned to the other two goblins. "And what may I call you?"

The first one came forward and Hermione bowed to the little goblin. "Telpun, Apprentice Granger, and you do not bow to me. I am only a _kordok_ of _Tilgnar_ Lynok. Apprentice, in your tongue. I was given the task of ensuring you know which resources to provide and the sales of the goods you smith, if you so choose."

The last one of them came forward, halting her bow and taking her in a forearm grip. This one had longer hair and what appeared to be curved, so a woman?

"A warrior's handshake," her voice was a higher pitch, confirming her gender. "I am Nalfi, a _kordok_ of the warriors. My _tilgnar_ has made me your protector while you're here."

Her gave flicked quickly to Targnak. He nodded sternly. "You are valuable, Apprentice Granger, and we will treat you as such. As you are not a goblin, we cannot trust you can defend yourself. You will have a guard."

She frowned but nodded, looking down at Nalfi. "Pleased to meet you. Do you have anyone to switch off with? I will be working all through the night most days and wouldn't want to put you off your sleep."

Nalfi regarded her curiously. "Do you not sleep?"

" _Erd go grishkna puh er gespecs ganta_ ," Targnak voiced.

His comment brought scattered gasps, immediately making the goblin drop the grip on Hermione's arm to sweep into a bow. The other two followed. Hermione blushed fiercely at that, not even on the caste system herself.

"Please don't bow," Hermione insisted. "I don't know what your _grishkna_ said, but I am simply here at my Masters' behest to work with you. I am your student while I'm here."

The goblins looked to Targnak, who grinned toothily at them. They chuckled, and Hermione frowned.

"It is humorous for us to know so much of our clans and have other species know so little," Targnak informed her with a toothy smile. "You will learn, young one, that secrets are a currency we have in spades. You have secrets as well, and we will teach you to hide them. Come."

Confused, and slightly worried about what was shared about her in Gobledegook, Hermione followed them down into the bank and down an elevator that was much nicer to use than the minecarts. Apparently the goblins used minecarts to cart customers far from their goblin village underground to the vaults, and no one suspected it. The goblins would rather inconvenience their customers than those of their kind, and Hermione had to giggle at that. Even Malfoy didn't get priority here.

The two small goblins who weren't Nalfi left the moment she exited the lift, going back to their various tasks. Targnak was the one who stayed, and Nalfi hund back as if a bodyguard to her and the goblin king. Hermione started accidentally humming the tune "Down, Down to Goblin Town" from the animated Hobbit film, thinking only it was appropriate. She stopped herself abruptly once she realized what she was doing, but Targnak chuckled at her so she must have been forgiven.

She wished they weren't moving so fast through the stone-carved town because it was beautiful. The giant cavern of the Gringotts goblin clan was amazing. The houses were clearly built for practicality more than comfort, but they were all covered in intricate rune patterns that made them all look so much more prestigious and wonderful. Tiered layers of housing led down to one large marketplace on the lower level. You could see the different parts of the town, with the smithy, barracks, and government buildings having the densest of housing nearest them, aside from the marketplace. Their town layout was an insight into their lives, and she wanted to observe it and take notes.

But Targnak proceeded to bring her to the caste area dedicated to the craftsmen, as he undoubtedly saw her. She found out, as they walked, that she must have been whatever a _ganta_ meant, as the goblins kept pointing and calling her it. She presumed it meant _human_ , but didn't ask. It was only her first day on the job, after all.

With her being human and a temporary fixture in the community, she was surprised when Targnak brought her to a house instead of the smithy. It was extremely close to the smithy, so she thought it must be her master's home. She was wrong.

"Apprentice, this will be your stead," the head goblin told her, taking her through the tiny house that was, undoubtedly, quite large for a goblin. "Kolkil has ensured that it includes human-sized crafting equipment for your use. Come look at your station and determine if anything is missing."

Hermione gaped, as they'd provided her with a station similar to what she'd had at Hogwarts, if not smaller and friendlier towards one person. The Hogwarts one was too big, and probably accommodated whole classes at one point. This one was goblin-sized except for the tools, and Hermione gazed at it adoringly.

" _Grishkna_ , you didn't need to provide me a room and all this," she told him meekly. "I'm only here a few days a week."

Targnak sneered. "You are an Apprentice, and you are to be taken care of here by the goblins in place of your master, for however long he loans you to us. Do not insult us by assuming we will not comply to the terms of your contract."

Hermione gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to imply-"

"Then do not," he said gruffly. "We do not have any private areas in our crafting hall that the masters cannot enter, so this house will be a safe place to do your alchemy away from goblin eyes. This fulfills many terms of our contract."

Contracts were everything to goblins, and honour was essential. She'd essentially insulted that by rejecting the house and assuming it was a kindness. Hoping to rectify her mistake, she bowed to Targnak.

"You have my thanks, _grishkna_ ," she intoned. "It is a beautiful place, and a great honour."

"You accept, _pikodra_?" Targnak eyed her warily.

"Of course."

That brought a pleased expression to Targnak's face. He presented her with the key to the house without ceremony and took her to all the other various locales, from the smithy to the government building, then all the way to the marketplace.

The marketplace was crowded, but that just meant that the other goblins had a hard time moving out of the way for their _grishkna_ as he pushed through the throngs.

"There are few goblins who run the market compared to those who work for the humans," Targnak told her as they moved through. "More money above. But the market is good for our needs. Quick foods, clothes, animals, the occasional item. We need to get you a flyer while you're here for communication."

"I can just use a Hogwarts owl," Hermione tried, flinching at the goblin's generosity. Goblins weren't generous, and it was more than suspicious when they were.

Targnak shook his head. "Wizard birds don't care for goblins. You will need one of our breed."

He brought her over to what she imagined was the menagerie and took her inside. Her eyes widened at the sight, even as Targnak told her to pick whichever she wanted, regardless of price.

" _Bats?_ "

Large, leather wings fluttered around the room and the shop-keeping goblin went to shush the inventory. Targnak chuckled at Hermione's evidently shocked face as some of the inventory seemed to vanish before her eyes.

"Not bats, witch. We use ahool," he told her, pointing to the differences between the two.

She had seen bats, in fact they often roosted in her grandparents' attic. After her initial shock, she saw the friendlier, more obviously primate than bat-like animals with the giant leathery wings. They looked like bush babies, with too-wide eyes that looked perpetually innocent, massive ears, paws rather than claws and giant, leathery wings. She had never seen one in person as Hogwarts didn't allow them on the grounds because of their knack for vanishing like the demiguise and causing mischief. Many people believed them to be cousins, she recalled from her Magical Creatures exam.

"Only creatures with some magic within them can be taught to track wizarding kind," Targnak reminded her. "The ahool are quick and intelligent, difficult to train for obedience but easy when it comes to communication. Go on, select a companion."

"I … I understand that you want me to accept," Hermione said hesitantly, "and I would love to accept, but Hogwarts has rules."

Targnak chuckled maniacally, showing his teeth. "Your Headmaster may be some kind of wizarding hero, but he is no goblin. Your contract stated you would be given traditional gifts from the goblin clan of Gringotts to _keep_ , and he agreed. Your contract protects you. Now, select a beast."

" _Grishkna_ , you are diabolical," Hermione grinned. "Can I refer my master to you when he invariably lectures me for this?"

" _Pikodra_ , blame me as you need to," Targnak smirked. "Over the years I've become immune to wizard reproach."

With that, she went forward and inspected the ahools. They all clambered around their cages to look at her, wide and inquisitive eyes smizing at her. She had read, in one of her books, that the best bonds with animals came from a similar magic, and a familiar bond from identical or complementary magic.

Slowly, one by one, she touched the animals with her magic. Many felt pleasant, accepting to her magic, but some clashed. When the clash was felt an ahool would go to the opposite side of their cage to avoid the feeling. A few went invisible, hoping they wouldn't pick her. Those ones made her laugh.

Finally, she came to an adorable medium-sized one with black eyes and dark colouring, but with white patches around its eyes and mouth. The ahool stared at her for a moment, discerning her intentions and assessing her, before it bared its teeth to her in a sneer-like expression. It looked like Severus, and its magic felt similar. Hermione chuckled. Severus would kill her for bringing a bat-like creature to his class, but maybe this one would get along with her Master.

She bared her own teeth playfully in return. The monkey-bat seemed disarmed by this and tilted his head in confusion as Hermione laughed.

"It's alright," she grinned, offering it a coaxing finger. "My name is Hermione. Hermione Granger."

The little ahool took her finger and looked above and below it, probably for food, before turning in its cage and going back to observing her. It was strangely endearing, like a mini-Severus.

"Would you like to come to Hogwarts with me?" Hermione asked the ahool. "Or were you hoping for a goblin?"

The little ahool cocked its head again, but before she could phrase it another way the little monkey-bat grabbed her finger again and held on tightly.

"What will you call it?"

She jumped at the question. " _Grishkna_!"

"Well?"

Hermione flushed. "He doesn't have a name already?"

The goblin proprietor showed his teeth. "They do not need names to be trained. The name is to be given by the master."

Targnak nodded. "Names bring with them bonds. It must be by given by the owner."

Hermione observed the little ahool with a grin. "What is 'little stern one' in gobbledegook?"

Targnak thought for a moment. "Closest approximation would be 'Wessgott Krik'. We us single words for descriptors. Wessgot means 'small and gruff'."

"Hmmm, Wessgot, Wes for short," Hermione said to the ahool. He seemed to consider. "What do you say, want to be Wes?"

The ahool's magic pressed against hers, tentative. Shy. Then, as if taking a leap of faith, merged and fluttered in affirmation within her. She gasped. That was different from what she'd felt with Crooks. The magic seemed to meld and blend. It was as though she were reading the impulses of the magical creature the same way she could read emotions in Severus. Bonded.

"You want to be my familiar?" Hermione questioned the beast. It took her finger again and looked at her like she was an idiot. "Just so you know, I have a mate. You'll have to be nice to him." It shook her finger, not letting go. "Alright then, Wes, it looks like you're mine."

Hermione released Wes from his cage, much to the goblin-proprietor's discomfort. The bond between them was strong, but it still took a moment to for Wes to decide on being with her. Finally, after he deliberated in his little primate brain, he climbed up her arm and examined her hair.

She chuckled. "Find something you like?"

Wes ducked into her hair and popped around the other side, making him look like a monkey in a wig. Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "I promise, you can ride on my shoulder as often as you like. Especially around Umbridge. That prune will probably die just from seeing you at breakfast."

The ahool nodded, perching itself under her curly hair and wrapping its tail around her neck. It had found its place, and she knew better than to try to dislodge him.

"Just to be clear, if you leave guano or any type of discharge on my clothes, I'm leaving you in my rooms for the rest of the year," she warned the best. It gave her a look, like 'what am I, a child?' and then continued playing and wrapping her hair around its face.

So she was gifted and ahool and its cage, including a flying vest and a few bags of food which she not-so-discreetly shoved into her bottomless pit of a bag in from of the grishkna, who simply looked pleased at her forethought. Targnak took care of all the details from that point on. She was introduced to the other apprentices she'd be working with, she was taken through the expectations, and then shown the two food places she could go to get food during her work.

Finally, when her tour came to an end, she got a chance to interrogate the goblin chief. "I hope you're not offended, but you're being very … kind. And acting, well, human."

Targnak chuckled menacingly, although the menace was unintentional. "If that was not my intention, you are correct that it would be an insult. You are perceptive. We do not behave like this normally to outsiders, _pikodra._ "

"Then, why me?" Hermione frowned. "I don't want special treatment; I will work as hard as any goblin."

Targnak flashed teeth. "I told you, in our first meeting, that I knew your age because of the gift we use for our craft. Have you guessed?"

Hermione shook her head.

He observed her shrewdly. "The magic of the earth, of matter, Apprentice. That is a goblin's portion in this world. My clan's magic flows through me as _grishkna_ , just as the earth's magic flows through you. Normal wizards or witches could not do what we do in our metalcraft, as they are restricted to their own magic. And yet I agreed to take you on."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You knew?"

"I knew," he led her back to the bank, his eyes taking in her every reaction. It was hard, even with occlumency, to hide her fear and surprise at his proclamation. "Apprentice Granger, I treat you as you are used to as a show of respect for the power you have as the _grishkna_ of your own species."

"Really, you don't have to do that," Hermione insisted. "I'm just an Apprentice. My, er, species doesn't know what I am, and I'm certainly not a _grishkna_ to them."

"You are too kind for your own good, witch," the goblin warned her. "This is not school. Outside our sphere are many species of beings, all looking to protect their own interests. You need to start to think selfishly."

She grimaced.

"To that end," Targnak led her to front desks of Gringotts, "you will be going back to Hogwarts."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "But, sir, I've just begun. I need to at least do a little alchemy for you."

"And you will, tomorrow," Targnak insisted. "I will not get a half-day's work for your first effort. Tomorrow you will do your work for Gringotts, and Sunday you will begin your training with us. You have learnt much about the Gringotts clan today, and I will give you time to familiarize yourself with some of out language."

He presented her a book on Gobbledegook for her to take, with a baring of teeth showing that he was not going to let her give it back when she finished. Finally, on the lift up, he began to speak again.

"I will warn you, however, that as many beings can feel the magic of my clan flowing through me, many more may know of your powers. Wizards and witches are helpless, but vampires, centaurs, werewolves, … be aware they may very well be able to discern the difference in you."

"Werewolves?" Hermione's eyes widened. "How...?"

Grishkna's eyes narrowed. "Werewolves are the least likely. Too much like wizards. Alphas, perhaps, know better than most. Why?"

"I used my magic on a werewolf I know, and now I'm his packmate," Hermione whispered to the goblin leader. "Do you think it could be because …?"

"Werewolves are emotional creatures, not driven by magic except in their transformation," Targnak informed her. "Your magic may indeed have struck for a bond, but it is the emotional ties of the werewolf that allow it." He looked at her with a pondering gleam. "You wish your gift to remain a secret?"

"Yes, _grishkna_ ," Hermione murmured. "Maybe not forever, but there's a conflict going on. It's not safe yet."

He opened the metal gates that separated the lobby from the back and gave her a nod. "Avoid magical creatures best you can then, and do not let the Alpha of your werewolf friend near you. He will sense the change. Anything else you need before you return to Hogwarts, Apprentice Granger?"

She hesitated. " _Grishkna,_ are you certain …"

"I have a great many things to do, Apprentice," Targnak said with teeth bared. "Until tomorrow."

As he walked away, Wes pulled on her stud earing.

"Yeah, I have no idea either," Hermione agreed, smiling at the little ahool. Suddenly, a thought made her grimace. "Wes, do you like kneazles?"


	33. Chapter 33

**WARNING: Lemony chapter! If you want to skip this chapter to avoid the lemon, all you need to know is that the flying monkey is cute, and Severus and Hermione consummate their bond. Enjoy!**

Chapter 33

* * *

Wes liked her hair a lot more than he liked Crooks, but that wasn't saying much. The two roommates had initially circled each other, assessing. Hermione had her wand ready, just in case, but the two had clearly come to an accord. Crooks got Hermione for bedtime and first thing in the morning, while Wes did his nightly flight and nap. Wes got Hermione during the day, standing on her shoulder and her desk like a good familiar.

Introducing the flying monkey to Severus was another matter.

She'd watched for the moment her 24-hour-younger self to head off for the turn before walking into the Potion Master's office. "Severus! I'm back early!"

"And, naturally, I get not even a minute without you," he called from his bedroom. She grinned at his snark. "I'll be back out in a moment."

Wes jumped from her shoulders to Severus' desk when she sat down. It was cute to see how Wes examined Severus' red-stained grading quill. Well, it was cute, until her laughter drew Severus out of the bedroom the exact second that Wes pushed the red inkwell off the desk.

She grimaced at the look of fury on Severus' face. "Severus-"

"What is this _creature_ doing in my office?" he hissed, waving his wand to clean up the mess her familiar had left. Wes moved to dive under her hair and wrap around her neck. "I thought you were meeting with the goblins."

"He was a gift from them," Hermione grinned sheepishly. "Severus, this is my familiar, Wes."

"You have the ginger menace," he noted, fixing up his desk from Wes' exploration. "And at least that creature knows I would turn it into potion stores for invading my domicile."

"Well, Crookshanks isn't really my familiar," Hermione tried with a laugh. "No one was buying him at the menagerie, and when he behaved, the owner gave him to me to get him off his hands. I mean, if I didn't take him I don't think the owner would have kept him alive."

Severus rolled his eyes at her, but the smirk made it sweet. "Yet again, your bleeding heart saddles you with more than it should. Why did you accept this beast, then?"

Hermione shrugged and gave him a cheeky grin. "Well, every witch needs a flying monkey, right?"

His lips twitched in amusement.

"You know, I like that I can talk muggle with you," Hermione admitted with a blush. "Most people wouldn't get the reference and I'd spend hours explaining that Oz isn't real and the ruby slippers weren't portkeys."

That earned a chuckle.

She took Wes from her shoulder gently. "Severus, I want to introduce you properly. If you need to send anything to my goblin master, you'll need to use him."

With a sigh, he moved forward and extended a hand to the ahool. Wes looked at him curiously, then, after a moment, grabbed the hand and climbed up the arm until he was face-to-face with the dour potions master. It was almost comical, the way they both eyed each other up. So, so similar. She had to fight the grin on her face as Severus sneered at Wes.

"Let's be clear, beast," he wagged him finger at him, "if I find you eating the insects or plants in my stores, I will clip your wings."

Wes seemed to understand the implication, because he yipped at the master and shot to Hermione, hiding once again in her hair.

"Severus," Hermione chastened him with a giggle. "I shouldn't laugh, you are terrible."

At her laughter, he came forward and kissed her soundly. She would have loved to make it a passionate make-out with him, but Wes decided that Severus was attacking her and slapped Severus in the face twice to get him to release me. Severus glared at Wes.

"Already he's a pest. If a single student makes a bat comment …" he threatened, moving his threatening look between her and Wes.

She grinned. "You'll make me oversee their detention?"

He smirked. "Cheeky witch. Whatever do I do with you?"

Hermione blushed. Her mind went immediately to the letter she'd received that morning from Mrs. Oswin, and the implications of it. "I, er, well, I'll just go put Wes in my rooms. The-we-I just wanted to introduce you. Er, I-I'll work on that Antidote to Common Poisons tonight for St. Mungo's. Just-er, I'll be right back."

She fled form the room, her hormones and magic going wild. She couldn't lie convincingly on a good day without anger, and it looked like she was even worse at lying when she was thinking of sex. She groaned just thinking what she looked like back there. He probably thought she was insane.

She put Wes' cage by the window and tucked him in there, promising to let him out later. Her main concern was re-reading Mrs. Oswin's spell. The whole time she studied it, she was overthinking. She had never had sex. It would hurt, it wouldn't be nice. But would it? She wasn't exactly human. Did she even want to do this today?

But then she thought of the bond, of how she'd know if he was hurt. She didn't want to wait another day if it meant that Severus would be summoned and alone in it. Yet, she was still nervous beyond all reason.

Even after a shower, selecting decent underwear, and practising the charm once more, she still felt unprepared. What if she didn't do it right? What if he didn't fit? What if she didn't go and just hid in her room? That last thought made her snort. Severus would come find her and ask why she wasn't doing her brewing.

But how was she even supposed to start it off? Would she just kiss him and hope it escalates? No, he was restraining himself now. He prides himself on his self-control, and she'd set him a boundary.

Finally, she decided. Casting the charm over herself and grabbing her robe to drape over her undergarments, she left her room to find Severus.

He was at his desk, doing the grading she knew he didn't need finished until the next week. When she entered he looked up and shot her a warm look.

"You do not often wear your robes to brew, Miss Granger," he noted. "Special occasion?"

She took a deep breath, seizing her Gryffindor courage, and cast the spell to release her buttons. There was a moment of tension, when she thought it hadn't worked, but then gravity did its work and the robe slid down her skin to leave her in only her undergarments. Heated gaze met worried eyes, and Severus' quill dropped immediately in response.

"Circe," he breathed, taking in the look of her. "What are you doing?"

She bit her lip. "Isn't it obvious?"

She watched him close his eyes and take a deep inhale. She stood there, practically naked, and he was closing his eyes. Just as she was about to stoop down and grab her robe and leave, rejected, Severus surprised her.

His eyes snapped open and the sheer lust was evident. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Come here." The order came out husky, with a dark desire that made Hermione obey immediately. The moment she was within reach, Severus stood and took her into his arms. "The risk?"

"Solved," she promised. "Mrs. Oswin taught me a trick."

His dark orbs buried into hers. "Are you certain?"

"I love you," she murmured, slightly disconcerted by their proximity. Her bond's magic completely encircled them, and her desire was skyrocketing. "Severus, I want to do this with you."

He bent low and brushed his lips against hers. The magic buzzed through her, going from her lips directly to her groin. "I want this more than I should. You are so young, witch."

"Old enough to love you," she breathed as he ran his mouth down the column of her throat. She groaned when he pulled away. "What?"

"Is this your first time?" he asked intensely, his hand moved over her while his face remained distant.

She blushed from head to foot, but nodded shyly.

His mouth came down hard on hers, devouring her intensely. "Oh, little witch, I will make sure you burst from pleasure. Tell me you want me."

"So much," she gasped. "Please."

"This isn't only to bond, is it?" he pleaded roughly. Her magic went haywire, both from her own need and the need Severus was pumping into it. "Tell me this is wanted, it won't be the only time."

"I don't think I'll be able to resist," she admitted shyly.

He was back on her in an instant. His mouth peppered her lips, her jaw, moved down to her throat. His hips met hers and Hermione couldn't help but move back against him. He growled low in his chest and sucked on a spot on her neck.

Hermione's head fell back, her body completely taken by the magic surrounding her. His words had stopped registering. Her body needed his, and she trembled to fight against it. The power taking her over was overpowering. His magic was coming to her this time, mingling and coupling as she wanted to do with Severus.

Trying to undo his buttons in her haze wasn't easy, but her magic was so intent on their coupling that it eliminated that obstacle for her. He was divested of clothing within a blink of the eye, and it seemed her magic didn't approve of her covering either because her bra and panties came off too. The magic pumped through them, heady and needy.

Severus didn't seem deterred by the magical happenings and moved her to prop on top of his desk so he could trail kissed down her torso. He paused at each breast, taking their plump flesh into his mouth and sucking at her before trailing lower and lower. She felt glad she'd cleaned up, but her worries about her own taste vanished when he started eating her out.

It was too much, too much for her. It almost hurt with sensitivity, and she tensed under his ministrations. Tensing, it seems, guided the pleasure though her center like wildfire, moans and pleas tearing from her from the intensity.

"Please, please, please," she begged. "Severus!"

As if to answer her, he pushed a single finger into her. She cried out and ground her hips, finding the bones of his knuckles gave her the much needed pressure she needed. The unfamiliar sensation was building underneath his teasing, and she felt like screaming.

"What- oh, Severus," she groaned. It kept building, and building. "Ah, ah, Severus!"

Severus watched his little witch come undone with unrestrained lust. She was so beautiful, so full of abandon. He had no doubt this was her first time, and he wanted to make sure she didn't regret it.

He pulled her to him and strode through the door to his bedroom. There would be no taking her for her first time on a hard desk.

"Severus," the little goddess moaned in his arms, pressing kisses over his chest as he carried her. "Severus, that was amazing."

"It's just the beginning," he murmured in promise. He laid her his bed and leaned in to kiss her passionately. The magic was heady now, his control slipping. "Hermione, are you certain?"

"Please," she begged. When he still hesitated, she reached out to stroke his cock between them. "Severus, I need you."

Severus' hesitations were gone, and he could only focus on the pleasure of his witch. Their love-making was primal, instinctive. He tried to be gentle, but the magic egged him to take her quickly. She didn't seem to mind, moaning with him with every thrust. It wasn't just once; each wave of magic brought them together again, and every time they finished they were brought into another round. Each coupling brought a bonding to their magic, each climax another wave of pleasure that had them at it again.

Finally, after an eternity lost to the world, both the link witch and her wizard were too exhausted to continue. The magic released them from their stupor and both witch and wizard slumped into each other in naked exhaustion.

Severus felt wholly complete. She had wanted him, her magic had held him, and they had coupled to completion more times than he could count. His body, though tired, felt powerful with magic that he assumed she had shared with him, only giving more proof that she truly had wanted him. His magic had been recharged though his body was still fatigued. Whatever that magic had been that had made him lose control would be sorted out after sleep. He was content, and he let his eyes slip closed as he held his witch's naked body.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

* * *

Hermione woke well before Severus. It was her first time resting since her transformation, and she relished in snuggling into the warmth her body automatically had created. Her body brushed against Severus, making her hyperaware of the still-sleeping lover's proximity. That small brush trilled through her magic and made her aware that the semi-sentience of it seemed more grounded, less prone to stretching and reaching, and focused more intently on Severus.

It was comforting to feel his magic, sleepy and calm against hers. She had no idea was sex was like, but she worried about the effect it would have on him, given the bond shew as sure would be created.

What were they to do now? What was the next step, the next part of their progression? Would the need to bond still be there, would it need renewing? What would happen when Voldemort summoned him? What if he were hurt? Would it bring him to her, her to him, or would she just know he was in pain?

What would happen when the war was over? Would Severus want freedom, would he leave her? Would it finish before she turned – according to the Ministry – eighteen and then she'd have to continue on seeing Severus in secret? The thought made her pull away and start to get up out of the bed, intent on getting some time alone.

 _We will be fine, witch,_ Severus' voice fluttered through her head, startling her. She looked over to him, seeing he was smirking with his eyes closed. _Stop thinking and let me hold you a while longer._

"Severus?" she whispered, disbelieving.

 _Do you have other people in your head frequently?_ She could hear the chuckle behind his words. _I'm not ready to wake up, witch. Save your questions for a little while._

"You can read my mind?" Hermione gasped. "Why can't I hear you?"

"I'm definitely not getting anymore sleep," he groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes as he grunted awake. "Witch, you are hearing me. My thoughts are simply a bit more direct because I'm filtering them through my Occlumency shields."

"You have yours up right now?" she struggled to understand. "How? Do you always have them up?"

"Yes. I'm a natural Occlumens," he told her with a huff. "Unlike you, I did not stumble upon it in a book and decide upon learning it, I simply had the innate ability and honed it. It's the reason I'm a remarkably effective spy. Now that I've answered your questions, witch, get back in my arms and let me hold you."

She blushed at his invitation. "I'm, er, naked."

"Hence the pleasantness of holding you," he replied, uncovering his eyes and throwing a devilish smirk at her blushing face. "Did you have a pressing engagement?"

"I do have to go to Gringotts today," she said hesitantly.

"Which you have the time-turner for," he pointed out with a rakish glee. "And it's not even breakfast yet. We have time for a little more of your brash Gryffindor sentimentality. I'm not finished with you."

Could she turn scarlet? No, that was just the Weasleys, but she could swear her body temperature spiked at his forwardness. She crawled back under the covers and cuddled into his arms.

"I didn't think you'd be such a cuddler," she admitted. "I expected .. I don't even know."

"I'm sure most people expect me to be a cad when it come to the women in my life, but I assure you, I find the few I have far too valuable to hurt," he murmured into her hair. "Besides … I would not kick you out of bed looking as delicious as you do now."

Hermione kicked his leg lightly in retaliation, earning a chuckle. "Men."

Then a thought occurred to her. "Oh!" She summoned a parchment and quill from the other room and crossed her legs on the be. "I've been keeping a journal to record everything that happens with my powers and any questions I have. Telepathy with my partner is definitely something that needs recording. Do you think it's only for close proximity, or at a distance? When we, er, did it, did I drain your energy? Do you feel depleted or invigorated? Did you also feel the irresistible urge to, er, copulate, or was that just me? Oh, and your stamina-"

"Granger!" Severus snapped, breaking her ramblings up. "Unlike you, I'm not a morning person. Please save your babbling until I have my morning tea at least, for Circe's sake."

She took a moment to acknowledge the bleariness in Severus' eyes before nodding sheepishly. Maybe she'd gotten a little caught up in her research. "Sorry." _Although, you're kind of adorable when you're sleepy._

Severus simply rolled his eyes and patted the mattress next to him, dictating the terms of her penance. _Come here, you insufferable girl._ The action made her giggle, but she complied readily enough. His arms wrapped around her and she burrowed into his chest, content to lie there and fixate on his breathing, the pulsing of their mingling magics, and the beating of Severus' heart under her palm.

* * *

As predicted, Umbridge was less than delighted with the appearance of her flying monkey at breakfast. She felt like quite a witch, her hair in one long braid that Wes liked to swing from and a flying monkey that sat well-behaved on her robe-clad shoulder. She almost felt powerful.

But when she sat, Umbridge gave a little girl _hem, hem_ that sounded completely disgusted. Nevertheless, she politely turned to the woman who had brought her hankerchief to her face to obviously protect her from Wes' diseases.

"Excuse me, but is an animal really fit to eat with us?" Umbridge asked none-too-subtly. "Is that _thing_ even clean?"

"Perfectly clean, and extremely well trained," Hermione moved Wes to the table and handed the little monkey a piece of fruit from the table. "And there are no rules against a professor's familiar eating with them."

Dolores scoffed. "A child with a familiar, certainly not. You mean a pet, Apprentice."

Well, that was one way to anger a person's familiar. Sensing her own anger at the woman, Wes threw peel of his banana at the woman, earning laughter from some of the children gathered at breakfast. Her own laughter had to be suppressed by a hand.

"Look what your stupid animal did!" Umbridge shrieked.

"Haha, sorry Professor, but my familiar doesn't take kindly to insults," she grinned at the screeching woman. "He's quite intelligent."

Under the table, Severus squeezed her leg in his own mirth.

The day just kep getting better from there: the Weasley twins had fixed up some new vomit-inducing candies that brought a new unpleasantness to Umbridge's classes, firework displays went on in the courtyard. It was a good day, which turned into a good week, which turned into a good month.

* * *

It was her turn to open the Room of Requirement. They took turns summoning the room, making sure that there was never a habit between their seven main leaders. Her turn came mid-December.

The needed lots of space, but they also needed things to practise , they would ask the room for the same room as the week before, but she didn't just want to because, from what she'd heard, the room had ended up giving him a bedroom because he'd asked for the room _he_ needed _,_ instead of the one _they_ needed. It had caused a good laugh.

So, she had decided on what to ask. _'I need a room with everything we need to win the war. I need a room with everything we need to win the war. I need a room with everything we need to win the war.'_ The door appeared, but smaller than I'd thought it would. It was darker too, than every other time she'd been there.

"Strange …" she murmured. Something felt wrong, like her magic was waiting for something. She turned to the person next to her, not paying attention to who it was. "Wait here. I need to …"

She didn't finish, but opened the door in front of her carefully. There was a moment, and then it hit her like a freight train. Wes chattered angrily in her ear, like he could feel it too. _Oh no._ She ducked through the door with Wes painfully grabbing her hair before the group with her could see the brilliant Hermione Granger hunch over in pain. The darkness, that now-familiar pain tainted the atmosphere. She didn't stop, she didn't let herself fall to the floor. Instead, she turned to analyze the room.

The Room had given her access to a room filled with … well … EVERYTHING. _What is this place?_ She was almost upset she didn't have time to explore the room that seemed to have every magical knickknack and book in a nonsensical pile that she itched to organize it. No, she had no time for that because she needed to find the object that was causing her magic to feel like an implosion.

"Wes, can you," she grunted as a stab of pain touched her head, "feel it too? We need to find it."

Wes nodded and jumped from her, flapping his wings into the room and flying over the large space. She moved the opposite direction of him, and her magic. Her magic was allergic to whatever it was, so she moved until she felt her magic nearly dragging her backwards in its pain. Around giant shelves, hidden potions, a pile of socks. There was a dark wardrobe in the back of the room that Wes landed on, chattering loudly. When she opened it, was filled with what looked like old-fashioned betrothal jewellery. _Why would so many people put these in the Room?_

She couldn't focus on that, though, because a piece on the top shelf caught her attention. All breath left Hermione's lungs as she saw the blue sapphire encrusted diadem, with glittering gems and goblin-crafted silver in the shape of an eagle spreading its wings to the bands of the headpiece. It was beautiful, definitely from Ravenclaw. But it also burned to even look at it. She gripped her head in her hand as her magic protested even more. The tiara was the source of dark magic.

She wasn't sure she could touch it, wasn't sure if she even could. But Dumbledore was the only one she knew that could kill it, and she needed to get it to him. She looked around for something, anything to put it in. There were jewellery boxes, they would work. She emptied one box of the rings piled inside it and levitated the tiara inside. Wes climbed on her shoulder and grabbed her hair again. Now to get to the headmaster.

She ran, despite the pain in her body. Outside the door the group was getting larger, no longer inconspicuous. Especially since Harry was there. He turned his bespectacled face to me and took in my tense expression with surprise.

"Hermione? What went wrong with the roo-" Hermione ran past him with the chest clutched close. Harry grabbed his scar in pain and Hermione grimaced. "'Mione!"

"I have to see Dumbledore!" she cried, running around them. "Sorry! It's fine now!"

She heard Harry turn to the group. "George, you're in charge. I'm going after her."

 _No, Harry, I don't know what will happen. Not if you get close to this thing. You're too similar._

Hermione tried to outrun him, and his shouts. He was too fast, especially in her condition. She stumbled and her legs collapsed, a sign that she had taken on too much this time. Her energy was depleted, and her eyes were filled with tears. There was next to nothing she could do as Harry ran towards her from behind.

"Harry! Please, don't come closer! You need to get Dumbledore or Severus!" I begged.

"They can wait, you need the Hospital Wing," Harry tried to grab her arm and lift her, but Wes followed her orders and bit him, making him let go. "'Mione, oww! Let me help you!"

She yanked her arm back, curling around the box so it couldn't get to Harry. Wes became her guard, screeching at him when he got to close. "Harry this could really hurt you. You can't stay here! Please, get someone else."

"Potter!" Malfoy came up and knelt next to her. "Get back to your Gryffindors. I'll take care of her."

"Malfoy, what are you-"

"Harry, go!" Hermione screeched at him, raising her head in a glare. "Malfoy is fine."

Harry looked between her and Malfoy before gritting his teeth and nodding. "Take care of her, Malfoy." Then he walked slowly, tentatively, in the opposite direction.

"Granger, am I fine to take you to my godfather?" Malfoy murmured lowly. She thought he was worried about her monkey guard, and the thought nearly made her laugh.

Hermione gritted her teeth against a wave of pain. "Headmaster, Severus, whoever's closer. Wes, back in."

Wes ducked back in my hair as Draco knelt to pick her up. He didn't ask questions, and she was grateful. He pulled her up so she could lean on him and pulled her away with her arm securely around the jewellery box. Students stared and gogled at the strangeness before them, as Draco Malfoy led a clearly injured Hermione Granger down to the Hospital Wing.

She didn't notice that was where he was taking her. When she reached the doors, she pulled against his grip. "Malfoy, no!"

"You can floo my godfather from here, Granger," Malfoy huffed, dropping me on the nearest cot. "I'm not getting Potter on my bad side because I let you suffer."

He strode over to the fireplace and disappeared into the green flame as Poppy Pomphrey appeared from her office, shocked to see her in a bed.

"Miss Granger?" she moved quickly to Hermione's bedside. "Are you alright?"

Wes seemed to know not to view Madame Pomphrey's wand waving as a threat, so he took up a defensive position by the wooden jewellery chest.

The floo reopened and through strode Malfoy, with Severus right on his tail. One look at him told Hermione he'd known something was wrong. The tightness in his eyes at her pain, the furrow of his brow at the jewellery case in her hand. _What is that?_

"Master," she intoned, secretly relieved. _Dark magic. Something of Ravenclaw's that Voldemort enchanted._ "Take this. To the Headmaster."

Hermione held out the jewellery box with shaking hands. Severus stepped forward-

"Oh really?" A sickly sweet voice called from behind the backs of the two Slytherins. Everyone turned to see Professor Dolores Umbridge, a sixth year Slytherin in tow, striding into the Hospital Wing like she had just taken over the place. "Running errands for Dumbledore, are we, Miss Granger?"

"For Circe's sake," Hermione swore with a groan. Severus looked from the box to her eyes in concern as she let it drop from the effort.

Umbridge's eyes gleamed with vindictive delights. "And what is this mysterious object he had you procure?"

"Surely a matter for the Headmaster!" Madame Pomphrey defended her student. "Take it up with him!"

Umbridge strode forward and reached for the box. Wes screeched at the woman -

"Wait!" Draco stepped forward and put his hand on Umbridge's shoulder. "It's clearly cursed. You see what it's done to Granger."

Her hand hesitated in its grubby quest.

"I found it," Hermione lied, seeing the opening Draco gave her. Umbridge's gaze turned sharp at her pain-filled words. "It belongs to the school but … it needs a curse-breaker."

 _Enough of this!_

Severus strode forward then, taking the box and opening it wide for Umbridge to see. "Ravenclaw's diadem, Professor Umbridge. I can see why Miss Granger felt the need to take it to the Headmaster. He is the guardian of any and all artifacts of the school."

Malfoy gaped with the other Slytherin at the open box, and Umbridge joined in back looked

"Did you touch it, Miss Granger?" Madame Pomphrey asked, looking at her hands for a sign of the curse.

Hermione ignored her questions. Umbridge was turning puce.

"That _child_ could not have simply _found_ a something like that!" Umbridge screeched. "Dumbledore must have gotten a forgery!"

"Are you accusing the Headmaster of placing the dark curse upon it as well?" Severus asked the woman in a warning tone. "This misplaced anger does not suit a woman of your prestige, Dolores. If it assures you …" he turned to her. "Miss Granger, tell me this moment the truth about this tiara."

"I found it and knew I needed to get it to Headmaster Dumbledore," she said truthfully, grateful for this out. I flinched as the box became just a smidgen closer. "He didn't even know it was there, as far as I know. I believe it is authentic."

Snape nodded and turned to Dolores. "You see there, Dolores, the Headmaster is not involved. If it is a forgery, its ruse was to curse Miss Granger. Definitely NOT something the Headmaster who ensured her early graduation would want." He snapped the lid shut. "In this _rare_ instance, I believe Miss Granger, for all her stupidity in touching such an object, is right; this is something that must be brought to the attention of the Headmaster. Excuse me, Dolores."

He charged from her bedside and went to the floo immediately, intent on the Headmaster's office. Umbridge watched in a rare form of rage.

Umbridge had nothing, but Hermione knew that the old toad wouldn't stop because of that. Hermione'd been careless with this one, but it would be worth it if Voldemort could die. Still, that meant she needed to be even more careful around Madame Undersecretary. Umbridge knew she was doing something, now, and wouldn't stop until Hermione gave her what she wanted.

Seeing her stomp out of there with a sneer was certainly enough of a recompense, though. She withheld her laughter until it was only her, Malfoy, and Pomphrey. Then they tore from her throat in a series of adrenaline and relief-based giggles.

"I feel better now that its gone," Hermione told Madame Pomphrey. "No more pain."

"Don't think about it, young lady," Poppy chastised her. "I'm keeping you here overnight, until I'm certain the curse is gone."

Malfoy shook his head like she was mental. "Laugh all you want Granger, but that was nuts. First you're on the ground, then I have to send Potter away, and _then_ Umbridge rushes in like she'd set dementors on your for it. She really has it out for you and your friends, doesn't she?"

"Appalling behaviour from a staff member," Madame Pomphrey hissed, glaring at the door Umbridge had left from. "Her colleague sits here cursed and she's more concerned with pointing fingers and shrieking. Just appalling. If she had continued much longer I'd have turned her out for disturbing my patient, make no mistake."

She finished her diagnostics and just shook her head. Hermione was lucky Madame Pomphrey knew about her magic, because otherwise her diagnostics would have caused another issue entirely. Malfoy had really fed her to the wolves, she'll-be-it unknowingly.

"Its as if you were never cursed, Miss Granger. A little tension, but that'll change with a night of sleeping draught. Yes, I'm certainly keeping you here overnight." She used her wand and tucked the sheets of the bed around me. "Now, dear, you be good and stay here while I go update your charts. I'll be back with a potion or two. Mister Malfoy, you're welcome to stay if you like."

"Thank you, Madame," he bowed slightly, the smirked at me. "I'm sure Granger could use some company."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the prat, but didn't tell him to go. Once Madame Pomphrey was out of the room, Malfoy came and sat by the bed, still ramrod straight and distinctly formal.

"So …" he waved his hand at her. "Want to tell me?"

"Nope!" Her cheery reply. Malfoy rolled his own eyes. "Thanks for asking."

"Not even why you were shouting at Potter in the middle of the corridor?" Malfoy asked with a quirk of a brow. "Why couldn't he be your little pack-mule to the Hospital Wing? Or run that box to the Headmaster?"

She shook her head adamantly. "Seriously, Malfoy, this is not your business. What Professor Snape ordered me to say is true; I found it by chance, and hurt me. That's it."

Malfoy gave her a look. "You wouldn't have been able to give it to my godfather if it was truly cursed, not as his apprentice. You assume I'm not Slytherin enough to see around your obvious half-truths."

Hermione looked away. Wes came into her arms to give her what comfort he could, as Malfoy saw through her words. Finally, she felt Malfoy's hand brush my shoulder and swiveled violently to see the look of concern on his face.

"You're not great at trusting people, are you?" Malfoy said with a small smile. "Always so sure you're the only person who can do what you do, right Granger? Even Potter can't deal with what you do, not the way it needs to be done. Only you can do it the right way."

She shrunk under his words, and he noticed. He shook his head.

"Granger, I'm the same way," he said with a smirk. "Although, at least I have a reason. Malfoys are the best, after all."

That made a snort choke in the back of her throat. " _Right,_ Malfoy." She sighed. "Am I really like that?"

Malfoy scoffed. "I'm sure Potter and Weasley made you feel like you were the smartest person in the room, but you don't even see that anyone else could even be close to as smart as you."

"That's not true!" she protested. "You're smart."

"But you think that because I don't spend hours in the library reading that I can't know something you don't," Malfoy guessed with a raised brow, daring her to reject his words. She looked down. "You're not the be-all-end-all, Granger. I sometimes believe you can't know anything I don't since you weren't raised Pureblood, but apparently _that's_ prejudiced. See my point?"

She nodded, because she really did. If people weren't Ravenclaws or spent as much time on assignments and reading as she did, she assumed she had to lecture them. Because she needed to with Ron and Harry, and she felt they were pretty smart.

"Although, you don't seem to have that problem with my godfather," Malfoy grinned at her. Hermione froze. "It's fine, Granger. I know."

"You … know?" She'd been trained, by an auror no less, on surviving interrogation. She adopted the appropriate look of confusion at Draco's question, not eager to give away anything that could compromise Severus. "Know what?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Stop trying to lie to a Slytherin, Granger. You never took my warning seriously, and I know that. You trust my godfather, anyone in class could see that. You practically gravitate to the man."

She had the gall to look sheepish. "Oh. I hadn't realized I did that."

"Oh, you do," Malfoy smirked. "In fact, Slytherin house was simply abuzz with speculation as to _why_. I argued that its some sort of weird hero-worship you have for Professors."

Hermione buried her face in her hands. "Do I want to know the other theories?"

"Not at all," Malfoy laughed. "Let's simply say, no one believed the Professor would take you on until they came back and saw that you had cut a new figure."

"What?!" Hermione's head jumped up and she glared at Malfoy. He was giving her his smirk as if he knew exactly how she felt about Severus. She had to throw him off. "I'll have you know I didn't have a choice. I owed Professor Snape a favour and he needed an assistant. That's all."

Malfoy gave her a knowing look.

She folded her arms around her chest defensively. "I'm serious. Professor Snape found out I was taking my NEWTS this summer and used the favour I owed to secure my apprenticeship. I didn't _seduce_ him into it."

Malfoy raised his hands in surrender. "Never said you did, Granger. Still, whatever you did to yourself has my common room in chaos. Honestly, if I have to hear one more guy tell me how they love the smell of your perfume I'll hang myself."

"I don't wear perfume," she said, confusedly. _Does my change give off a scent? Why hasn't Severus told me?_ "What do I smell like?"

"I'm not going to sniff you like and animal," he mocked indignantly.

Hermione laughed and smiled broadly when she earned a bit of laughter from him in return. He was genuinely nice if he wasn't sneering at you and you understood his sarcasm. She reveled in the change she'd seen in Draco Malfoy in the short time she'd known him.

Her magic shifted as the floo caught ablaze, revealing Severus and Headmaster Dumbledore. Draco jumped up from his seat quickly and shot her a look. She understood it to mean _'I really don't want my godfather to see us getting along._ She nearly laughed as he walked away at a brisk pace. "See you around, Granger."

Both teachers let Malfoy leave without a word, but Severus gave him a nod of the head as acknowledgement before the two found their way to her bedside. Dumbledore was practically bouncing on the tips of his pointy-toed shoes as he approached Hermione, making her repress the giggle that was a natural response to his display. Severus merely shook his head and erected a stronger privacy barrier than her own around the group.

"Well done, Miss Granger!" Dumbledore beamed. "I had no idea that Tom would hide such a thing in the school. Where did you find it?"

She bit her lip. "Er, well, the Room of Requirement, sir."

"The what?" Severus asked, folding his arms.

"Ah, the Come and Go Room," Dumbledore said fondly. "I remember myself a funny situation where I found myself in need of a bathroom quite badly. I've never sat on a more comfortable toilet seat. What did you need from the room?"

She hesitated. Trusting Severus with everything she was doing seemed fine, but when Harry happened to be mentioned, there was another side to him. Could she tell Dumbledore about their plan, with Severus there?

"Well, we started a study group for Defense," that seemed like a safe start. Dumbledore just nodded knowingly. "That's where we've been meeting. Anyways, I asked the room to give us the items we'd need to beat, er, the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who. If the castle's sentient, I thought it might know more that I would about how to prepare. Instead, there was a room filled with all sorts of, I don't know, possessions from centuries of collecting. We should actually look at the books stored in there, because I think I saw some rare texts that may be useful or better used in the library. I think I saw a copy of _In Santimonium_ —"

"Miss Granger," Severus said warningly. She shut her mouth quickly, knowing that look from him. "As much as I'm sure you cannot contain yourself, this is more important than books. Did you really think to keep secret your little scavenger hunt?"

She blushed. "I wasn't sure I was allowed to tell you."

"After your collapse in the corridor, I thought it might be best if Professor Snape knew what to look for," Dumbledore said gently. "You need someone who can bring those objects to me when the time comes. You, clearly, should not be put in proximity to their magic. I should have realized, after your condition at Headquarters, but I'm afraid my excitement got the better of me."

Hermione shook her head. "It's alright. We're taking away his immortality, one step at a time. That's worth a little pain."

"Nevertheless, having people you can trust to relay the artifacts to me, or, better, who can destroy them, would be ideal," he said kindly. "I've informed Severus of everything, and he will be able to take care of them should he be near or I unavailable."

Hermione nodded. It made sense. There was one thing though … "Headmaster, when I had the, er, the thing -what even is it? -Harry's scar started hurting. It happened as I ran past. Could it hurt him, if he got too close?"

"Potter?" Severus looked at the Headmaster sharply. "What does this have to do with him, Albus? Another secret?"

Albus raised his hand in a stilling gesture, fatherly and indulgent. "All will be revealed in time, Severus. But first we need to find the other items." He turned to her with a smile. "Miss Granger, Harry is in less danger than you are handling such items. You can trust him to bring them to me if you're in such a situation again."

"Oh, thank goodness," she sighed. "He nearly took it from me when I collapsed; I was so scared he'd get himself hurt."

Nothing else important was said. Severus stayed after the Headmaster had left in order to give her a small kiss on her forehead, careful to keep it innocent in appearance. She tried to convince Severus that she was healthy enough to leave now that the dark object was taken care of, but he merely gave her a smirk and told her to 'behave for the good doctor' before leaving the room with Wes in his arms. He would take care of her familiar for the night.

Still, the day had been tiring. She kicked of her shoes and made sure to keep at east one foot on the stone ground of the castle until she felt the tiredness replaced with revitalization. There was nothing to do but wait until morning to use her time-turner. Strong she was, but no one crossed Poppy Pomphrey. Especially when, upon seeing her awake, dumped sleeping draught down her throat to keep her there.

* * *

 **I've been gone a while, sorry! But I still like this story of mine and I'll update as I can. I still love reviews and people guessing! Happy New Year everyone! Next up ... Mr. Weasley's near-death snake attack!**


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

* * *

She received a summons in her owl post early December. Stamped with a Ministerial seal that seemed to glare at her. It wasn't addressed to her specifically, though; it was addressed to the _Head of House Aethon_. It was good to know that this was an automatically created letter, and that no one, yet, knew that she had created a house of her own.

"Should I go?" Hermione asked her Professor. "I mean, I want to, but it's not addressed to me, so maybe they don't know yet …. It might make the Dark Lord upset, too, and I don't want that. Oh, what do I do?"

"Hmmm…" he added the thistles to the brew. "What is the session about?"

"That's the thing, erm, it's a legislative session," Hermione admitted. "No one knows what's going to be proposed until the actual session, so I can't make an informed decision. But what if one vote helps with keeping people accountable, or keep them from interfering even more in our lives? I mean, what if its about Muggleborns and I'm not there?"

"It's a distinct possibility," Severus admitted. "But if you sit in the session, the Dark Lord will need to be informed ahead of time. There's every chance he will have me keep you busy so you can't interfere with whatever they need to pass."

"Or I'm just one girl, and he won't think I'm influential enough to make a difference," Hermione countered. "This could increase your sway with him though, couldn't it? I mean, seemingly betraying your know-it-all apprentice in a significant way."

"I suppose."

Severus stopped stirring and set the stasis charm, a sneer on his face that had recently become isolated to the classroom. To have earned his expression within his rooms was a bit like a punch in the gut for her.

She wished she could still read his mind. It had turned out to be a side-effect of their love-making, and always wore off within twelve hours of the act. Since it was usually magic-based and draining for Severus and her both, that meant they usually got about two or three hours of bond based off of it.

When he turned to her, sneer still fixed, her distress must have clearly showed. His sneer lessened as he came close, taking her face in his hands.

"My ire is not for you," Severus promised. "I … The reminder that I serve my Master is not pleasant, and the fact that I am required to pretend you are simply a means to an end is unconscionable, however necessary it might be."

Her reply was a kiss to the underside of his jaw, a place she knew made him shiver with pleasure every time. "I want to go, so tell him. Ask the Dark Lord of the Sith what he wants you to do, and I'll make sure you are safe by doing it exactly."

Another thought. "How do I smell?"

"What?" he murmured, still holding her tight. "Why do you ask?"

"Malfoy mentioned that some of your Slytherin boys liked how I smell," Hermione explained. "I don't really wear perfume, so I thought it had to be because of my change. Do I smell different to you?"

"Hmmm," Severus bent low, sniffing the skin of her neck. His breath tickled slightly, earning a giggle. "I always simply smelt that shampoo we brew for you every month, but I suppose your skin does smell like a warm vanilla. In fact, I'd say you smell delicious."

He suckled on her pulse-point, earning a bit of a moan. "Yes, very sweet." Another suck. "An expensive dessert." Another thigh-clenching kiss. "One none of those _boys_ will ever taste."

She moaned her agreement and he evidently decided his potion came secondary as he move his mouth lower and lower. The problems they had were forgotten as they ravished each other on the lab bench.

* * *

Severus sat at his left hand again, although this time it was simply because of the oddness of the hour as opposed to a position of favour. No one else was in the room, and so it was simply Severus and Voldemort, Master and Follower, here to consult.

"You do not often demand an audience, Ssseveruss," the Dark Lord noted from his position. "What is it that you have found out?"

"My Lord, my apprentice has hid something from me that could prove … detrimental, if not approached cautiously," Severus began, his face clear and cold from his Occlumency shields. Still, fear was allowed through when he saw the anger in his Lord's face. "Apparently, her endeavours a last year for the house-elves have born fruit, and some have bonded to her. She received a Wizengamot summons this morning for her House, House Aethon."

He assessed his Master's reaction. Apparently it wasn't truly angering news, as his face had turned calculating, but it hadn't pleased him either. The prospect of torture still loomed heavy over his head for not catching her making the elf-bonds originally, but he had a chance now.

"She wishes to attend," Severus says, testing his Lord's reaction. Still calculating. "I could always detain her, but if I prevent her all the time she will know I have other motives. I suggest detaining her only when a vote of true importance is coming so she doesn't go to Dumbledore with my actions."

"A wise thought, Severus," the Dark Lord agreed, his face still calculating. "And these house-elf bonds, they permitted her to make a new house? So simply?"

Severus nodded, but shrugged. "I did not know it was so simple either, my Lord. However, it seemed the elves have more power than we thought. It explains quite a few things."

"This is news to me …" The Dark Lord pondered. "How is it that there have been no new seats in nearly 200 years? I had thought that what had prevented this was nothing more than no uninitiated pureblood knowing the House rituals, but if it is so simple …"

"I do not know," Severus said simply. "The Prince line had elves, but they were never given a seat. I am sadly ill-informed on anything concerning them."

Voldemort motioned for his arm, and he gave it quickly. Apparently he needed to summon another Death Eater for further information. A sharp pain of summoning, and then Lucius appeared in the room, clad normally and looking worried.

"My Lord?"

Voldemort motioned to a seat for him to take. "Lucius, I need to know about house-elves. It seems there is more than one way to create a house, and I want to know how."

Lucius knew as little as anyone about the elves, but he did elucidate on the creation of Houses. It was blood magic, pure and simple. The blood of a line usually collected over a minimum of five generations, then used in a ritual surrounded by a family's ward stones to name the house. Once the house was named, it would automatically be recorded in the Ministry. The Prince line, for example, had been mixed with the line of the Gaunts somewhere to secure them elves, and as such didn't have a seat as their house was already technically represented. The knowledge that he was very distantly related to the dark Lord did nothing to make Severus feel better, but alas, at least he knew.

Miss Granger did not have five generations behind her, and knowing that, they called for Lucius' personal house-elf, Bin. The old elf appeared eagerly to his master.

"Yes, Master?" the elf asked.

"Bin, tell us how an elf can create a House," Lucius demanded without preamble.

"Yes, Master," Bin said bowing low. "Elves be taking blood of new Master or Mistress, bes marked by new Mistress, and be creating house to serve. Elves cannot be serving with no House, Master. Be makings House instead."

"Don't elves need a house of strong magic to sustain them?" Voldemort asked the elf now, his voice softer. "How did Miss Granger secure an elf-bond, then?"

Bin nodded. "Mistress alone, but Mistress is strong witch, very strong. Like elf, but stronger. Mistress make good house, if marry. Strong babies, many babies. Elf-magic likeses her."

"Interesssting," Voldemort hissed. "What makes her magic strong enough?"

Severus' eyes widened. No, the elves would not be the reason Hermione was discovered. He prayed to every deity he could think of that Hermione's secret remained secret, if only a while longer.

"Magic be choosing Mistress Aethon," Bin said, eyes bright and happy at the thought. "Magic not used by Mistress like Master, Magic be living in Mistress. Many more elves cans be bound to Mistress, no matter. Mistress Aethon be strong."

Well, at least the elves knew as little about it as they all did at the beginning. Still, the look on Voldemort's face was terrifying. Like he'd found something worth studying. The thought of Hermione being examined under his Master made his stomach lurch unpleasantly.

"Well, well, well," Voldemort smiled wickedly, "how … interesting. Severus, have you noticed anything exceptional about your apprentice?"

"She is termed the brightest witch of her age by her peers," Severus disclosed nonchalantly. "I've always attributed that to her ability to recall her texts word for word. Power-wise she seems similar to any other witch in her year, but maybe she is simply too moral to use this power the elves have noticed."

Voldemort considered his words, making Severus nearly dizzy with relief. If he believed Hermione to be simply growing into her power, it gave him the means to keep his Master off the scent of her true significance. From what Dumbledore had told him, Hermione's link witch friend had been targeted in the previous war and had lost her husband to Voldemort in an attempt to claim her. He could not allow Hermione to suffer similarly.

"Very well," Voldemort allowed, his face still thoughtful. "Severus, return to the school. Keep an eye on your apprentice's powers for me; I want to know the minute she reveals a skill, weakness, anything of the sort."

"Of course, my Lord," Severus stood and bowed. "And the Wizengamot session?"

"She may attend," he dismissed him with a wave. "I want to see how she handles our world."

"As you wish, my Lord," Severus bowed a final time and headed for the exit.

As he closed the door, he heard the Dark Lord turn to Lucius and say, "I need you to send a message to your son and his friends, Lucius. I have a task for them …"

Severus' stomach tightened. He needed to warn Hermione; she had caught the Dark Lord's attention far more than ever before.

* * *

Severus warned her about the attention her House name had garnered from the Dark Lord, but she didn't feel like she had to worry. She was confident that the worst that would happen is an attempted capture. At least she was, until the day before the Wizengamot session.

All that day, Slytherin boys seemed to come up to her and introduce themselves as if she'd never met them. Always the exact same way, using similar words and a bow, even if she already knew them.

"Apprentice Granger, allow me to present myself to you. Theodore Nott, heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Nott."

"Apprentice Granger, we'd like to present ourselves to you as the two youngest heirs to the Ancient and Noble House of Flint. I am Chadwick Flint and this is my younger brother Leland. We are at your disposal." The sixth and fifth year set of brothers bowed and then disappeared. She hadn't actually realized that Marcus Flint had brothers.

"Apprentice Granger, it is my pleasure to present myself to you as a son of House Gamp. Please call me Lyndon."

"I, Stewart Doge, present myself to you as a son of House Doge, Apprentice Granger. It is a pleasure."

"Apprentice Granger, I'd like to present myself to you. I am Alton Chesterfield, of the Chesterfield line."

She'd had enough, and had slipped Malfoy a note demanding he meet her in the Room of Requirement immediately. But when she got there, he was pacing with the nervous energy of a snarflelump. He turned to her as she entered, giving her an annoyed look.

"Alright Malfoy, why have half the purebloods in the school introduced themselves to me?" Hermione demanded. "I know their names, obviously, so why are they all being so damn formal?"

"Do you have no clue, do you?" he demanded, then pointing her to the chair opposite his pacing. She sat obediently, aware he was about to rail at her. "I received a letter from my _father_ , Granger, and all it asked about was _you._ Did you know the Dark Lord has not only demanded that all of the death eater children essentially stalk you, but that those in my year and up are supposed to _present_ ourselves to you? Do you even know what that means?"

"Ummm, no?" She hid her face as Draco glared at her. "What? I genuinely have no idea!"

"That is what people have been doing to you all day, Granger; _presenting._ It means that we're supposed to _present_ ourselves as viable future _husbands_ ," Malfoy explained cuttingly. "To you. A mud-muggleborn. So, tell me, what have you done to make you so interesting that the Dark Lord wants you courted into our little, Death Eater family?"

"Erm, actually, I think it's because of the second reason why I wanted to talk to you today," Hermione fidgeted. "I need your help. Tomorrow is a session of Wizengamot, and I'm supposed to go and claim my seat. I have no idea how to act, or anything like that. I need to know how to present myself to claim my seat, and I need to know how to behave and when to speak, and, - what?"

Malfoy held up his hand to stop her, his eyes hard. "Granger, are you telling me that _you_ are the claimant to the new seat in the Wizengamot? The first new seat to appear in nearly two hundred years? You know, the thing everyone's been wondering for two weeks in the Prophet? And you're only asking for my help the _day before you claim it_?!"

"Er, yes?" It came out as more of a question, which made Draco pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "It wasn't intentional, okay? It just happened."

"No wonder he wants you," Malfoy sighed, shaking his head. "Did you at least tell Uncle Severus when it happened?"

She shook her head with a blush. "I kind of forgot until they sent the notice for tomorrow's session. He knows now, though. And he's the one who told your Master."

Draco nodded and started to pace again, thoughtful. "Fine, then. I'll need to give you every piece of information I can about pureblood rituals. I don't want a single boy in this school tricking you into a betrothal."

"They can do that?" Hermione gasped.

"All it would take is a piece of jewellery," Draco confirmed, rolling his eyes. "Of course, it only works if you have a House association, so no one of your standing needed to know this before. Here's the broadest lesson I can give to avoid that; no matter what, do not put on any strange jewellery no matter who gives it to you. No necklaces, bracelets, earrings, rings, _nothing_. Clear?"

"Clear," Hermione agreed firmly. "No jewellery unless I've bought it myself. Now, how do I claim my seat?"

"That part is easy for you," Malfoy shrugged. "There's pomp and procedure, but the important part is simply that you sit. Each seat in the Wizengamot will only allow someone who's in the house to actually sit on it, and since you're the only person in your house, you won't even have to fight for it. That's actually the reason claiming is such a big deal – if two people or even more show up to claim a seat, then they have to submit to a genealogy of their family lines to determine who is the closest living relative of the last challenged holder of the seat. If they're equally close in blood, it turns into a duel. You, since you founded your own house as a muggleborn, just have to walk in and sit down.

"However, since this is your first time, you don't have the proper Wizengamot robes, do you?"

"I have no idea what that even means," she said with a beaming, sarcastic smile. "Tell me?"

By the end of their meeting, he'd given her a checklist a page long filled with things she needed to do before the actual session tomorrow. She needed to have a set of House jewellery enchanted by goblins (she knew exactly who to ask, she noted happily), she had to go order a set of plum robes and have them tailored with the House Crest or Coat of Arms on it, she needed to bring one of her house elves with her so it could bring her food during the breaks or she'd starve, and so on and so forth.

When she told him she obviously didn't have a crest or set of house gems she could use to enchant, he sat her down and created them with her.

"The crest is always associated with the name, and always with the founding members of the house, or in this case, _member_ ," he instructed, setting his quill to the parchment. "Houses, those not old enough to be part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight but still a part of the Wizengamot, have crests that are circles as opposed to shield-shaped. Like the one on your Apprenticeship mark from Snape, for example. His house is old, but he's not Sacred Twenty-Eight.

"You need a mantle to surround it, a family logo either as a surround or on a banner, the name on a banner at the bottom, one to four central elements, and either a piece of an animal or a full one. Now," he pushed the paper forward, "draw."

"I can't draw," Hermione protested.

"Seriously?"

"What?" Hermione defended herself. "Not all of us grew up with personal tutors, Malfoy."

He rolled his eyes and brought the paper back over to his side. "Fine, I'll do it, but not a word to your friends, Granger. They already think I'm girly enough as it is. Now, you need to tell me what you want, Granger. Why'd you pick Aethon, for example? That could be a good part of the crest."

"You didn't see my patronus? In DA?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I was focusing on mine, and trying very, very hard to make sure I didn't get a ferret in front of Potter."

Hermione chuckled. "Well, mine's an Aethonian Winged-Horse. I thought it would be appropriate to name my house something related to that."

Malfoy nodded and looked at the page. "Okay, so we can have the winged horse as your central element. Or … no, just the wings. Don't want to give too much away, and they symbolize freedom. We can work with that, and put something in between them for the true central element." He drew for a bit, his face intent on concentration. "For your mantle, what's your wand wood?"

"Vine."

"Perfect," Malfoy approved, continuing his quill scratching. "Everyone known old Garrick uses English ivy stems for his vine wands, and that gives a sense of old family prestige to your crest that will make the other noble families foam at the mouth. And it will circle your crest nicely."

He kept scratching his quill, adding a small doodle of what he was thinking. "Now, what do you most want your descendants to focus on? Bravery, glory, kindness, smarts, what-have-you."

"Erm, well, I just want them to be good people," Hermione said hesitantly.

Draco snorted. "Pure-hearted Gryffindor. What makes a person good, Granger? Pick an attribute that makes a person good, and we'll work with it."

"I-I, umm," Hermione was having a hard time, making Draco look up and give her a scathing look. Her mouth shut automatically.

"Granger, I'm asking for your motto," Malfoy explained. "The Blacks and the Malfoys always relished in purity, and so that's why we have the mottos of _Toujours Pure_ and _Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_ , meaning 'always pure', and 'purity will always conquer'. You pick something, and we'll make it a phrase to live by. Like 'Never poke a sleeping Draco.'"

She scoffed. "I'm pretty sure that it's supposed to be read as Dragon, not specifically _you,_ Malfoy."

"I think the former needs to be said more often," Draco laughed. "I like my sleep, thank you very much."

They chuckled together.

"Okay, I think I get it," Hermione nodded. "I guess … The most important thing is equality? I mean, if you understand that everyone, magical, non-magical, being or creature, are born equal, you understand justice and injustice and have a foundation of kindness to work with. Wait, does that mean justice or kindness are the most important? Well, I guess that'd be the debate about justice and mercy and that's relevant. Or is equality still ...? I mean, it probably would be except that it takes too long to explain what I actually mean and so it might be better to just skip to the end res-"

"Granger, shut up!" Malfoy exclaimed, earning a glare from her. He raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry there, but I _do_ understand what you mean without the essay-length dissection."

Hermione slumped. "I know. I just … I need to get this right and we only have tonight."

"Granger," he drew her eyes to his and let his normally scathing eyes soften to hers, "it will be fine. We can always change it. It's not like this is going on a signet ring tomorrow. This is just for your robes, and those can always be reordered. Alright?"

She exhaled. "Alright."

After a bit of tweaking, they decided that anything trying to say 'all are equal' just sounded too macabre or too American, and decided on ' _Causarum justia et misericordia_ ', meaning ' _For the cause of justice and mercy'_. It wasn't specifically about equality, but justice and mercy were required when making the jump to equality, something Hermione was determined to bring to the Wizarding World. And she actually liked it, which she was sure made Draco relieved that the debate was over.

The crest was finally done, with two wings coming from a stack of books, surrounded by ivy vines and a banner with her family's motto on it. It felt simply and yet, hers. She'd think of something wrong with it tomorrow, like it being too girly or not intricate enough to impress the purebloods of the Wizengamot, but in her mentally tired stupor she thought Draco had done a good job.

They decided on three different gems and one metal for her, each saying different things. She had wanted her gemstone to be clear or white, another way to symbolize equality. By not choosing any colour, she gave herself a sense of independence from house affiliations and a way to avoid clashing horribly with the plum robes she was supposed to wear to the Wizengamot, but she had refused to use bone like Malfoy suggested and moonstone (her favourite) was already taken by another House. They settled on silver topaz as her official gemstone that she'd wear to House functions, as it mimicked opulence without actually being that. They picked her secondary gemstone as mystic quartz; it was more expensive, which had Hermione nervous, but Malfoy assured her that she only needed to wear a little bit in conjunction with her main house gemstone at parties, which she would most certainly not be invited to. And the changing colours within it meant her choice was still independent of colour affiliations. Finally jet would be for mourning pieces, as it was pure black and had defensive properties Hermione could imbue on it.

Metals were less important than the stones, but because of her stone choices she needed to make her metal very expensive. All the Sacred Twenty-Eight focused on gold or goblin silver, depending on their relationship with the goblins. The other Houses could pick anything. She told him her metal would be platinum, but she didn't tell him it was because she'd been making that and all the other types of precious metals for the goblins, who she now knew would help her with the jewellery for nothing but extra alchemy hours.

To see how quickly she could get them, Hermione left Draco to create a recreated reference chart on the political leanings of the houses while her house-elf Helgy apparated her directly to Gringotts. It was already closed for the night, but she was an Apprentice of their smiths and needed to see her _tilgnar_. The nightshift of guards let her through to find her _tilgnar._

When she went down, she hadn't been expecting to be greeted by Targnak, and quickly bent herself to a bow.

" _Grishkna,_ " she intoned humbly.

"Apprentice, we were not expecting you tonight," the goblin leader commented, inviting her to explain. "Surely you are not here to work."

"In some ways, I am," Hermione replied. She tried to hold still, but she had been anxiously fidgeting the whole ride down. "I've come to bargain for a favour from my _tilgnar_."

Targnal seemed more interested than offendeded with her answer, and waved for her to continue.

"I …" she really didn't want to sound arrogant, or even strange, "… I need some jewellery made. That's, oh, that's not what I mean, I mean it is, but-"

Her _griskna_ held up his hand to stop her babbling. "And this is _important_ , so much so that you came today?"

"It's not a regular set of jewellery I need crafted, _griskna_ ," Hermione tried to explain. "They are for our government."

Targnak suddenly gave a wide, toothy grin. "Apprentice, you are the one who's been causing the fuss above. First of House Aethon, I heard?"

The fact that she didn't need to explain about houses made her sigh in relief as she nodded. At least he would understand a little bit.

"You change everything, don't you, Apprentice?" Targnak chuckled, low and menacing but filled with goblin humour. "Your request will be granted, Apprentice, provided you spend two of your crafting days on changing metals, as repayment."

"Of course," Hermione bowed. "But there is a problem. The session is tomorrow. I know goblins work fast, but they can't be that quick."

Apparently, they didn't need to. Targnak and her _tilgnar_ took her to a vault that seemed to be just for the clan, filled with pre-cut precious gems and empty earrings and necklaces to put them in. They were prepared for any quick order, she realized. Probably from every House they're affiliated with.

"Wow," she breathed, looking at all the pieces. "Why do you even _have_ these?"

"We do not make many swords or armors in these modern days, Apprentice," Targnak told her with a grin. "Wizards now spend their money on these lavish ornaments. When they are requested, we pull a selection from here to show the witches or wizards for selection before fitting them with their preferred gems. We do not need a storefront for our craft, Apprentice. Our patrons know how we operate."

"I know you run a bank too, but, wow," Hermione breathed, "your clan is really rich."

Targnak gave her a happy grin. "I have done well for my clan, yes. Now tell us what you need."

After taking them through her choices, the goblins agreed to dressing her in her choices. Her _tilgnar_ grabbed a few pieces of platinum jewellery that she liked, and one she thought was too big. They ignored her insistence that she only needed one set and proceeded to put together four sets for her. Her favourite was the simplest of them, but Hermione knew she'd be wearing the massive cascade necklace tomorrow to stun the Wizengamot into accepting her. The mourning collar they gave her was also stunning, but that fact annoyed her more than pleased her because of what it'd be used for.

After two hours of the goblins teaching her to carefully set the stones a fix the metals around them, Hermione was packed up and sent away. She turned back once on her time-turner, gems in hand, and had Helgy bring her back to the school.

She popped back into existence and took in the scene. "Malfoy! This was a SECRET!"

Draco had apparently called his two Slytherin girls up the moment she'd left, and had told them everything. Or, she assumed that much when they surrounded her, introduced themselves for their House, and tried to get her thoughts on her various, and sometimes very _public,_ presentations that day.

"Girls, pull back!" Draco had clearly seen her overwhelmed expression at the girls' overexcited nature and was stepping in to the rescue. She gave him a relieved smile which he returned with a snort of amusement. "Granger's going to have enough to deal with."

"Traitor," Hermione accused, and he just nodded. "Why did you call them, anyway?"

"Granger, isn't Potter's whole belief about your group centered on helping each other?" Pansy asked decidedly. "You can't call your Gryffindors for pureblood politics. Some might understand a little, but you'll never crack the nuances with them. Besides, I'm sure Draco has forgotten to tell you all the rules for women sitting in the session."

"For women?" Hermione looked at Malfoy, who was now looking sheepish. "There are different rules for girls?"

Daphne nodded. "Lots of different rules. It's meant to prevent women from taking their husband or son's seat. There are so many things you could get kicked out for, or ways any male heir can take the seat from you. You won't have problems with those rules, but others … what were you planning on doing with your hair?"

She automatically touched her curls. "What about it?"

Pansy smacked Draco on the arm. "She's not allowed to even sit with her hair down, you prat! What have you been teaching her?"

"Geez, woman," Draco rubbed his arm, "I _was_ teaching her how to do the _job_."

"She won't be able to if she's turned away!" Pansy accused. "You're so lucky you called us!"

"Wait, what's wrong with leaving my hair down?" Hermione interjected.

Daphne grinned mischievously. "You're not going to like it, Granger."

She had had no idea how serious the dress code required of women in Wizengamot was. At least, she didn't before Pansy started in on her hair. It was inappropriate for a woman in Wizengamot to have her hair anywhere past her shoulders, even if restrained by a braid or hair tie. She could actually be asked to leave the session for the offense. It was archaic!

And with her hair, that was a problem. The headpiece for Wizengamot made it nearly impossible for all her thick, waist-length curly hair to be contained as she normally would, because it covered half of her head. She couldn't wear it high, and the spell Severus had taught her was too high for the headpiece and came loose every four hours. Wands weren't allowed to be taken out during session either, so if she used a spell to contain it and it came loose, they could actually dismiss her right when she was needed, like a vote or a deliberation and she'd be banned for the rest of the session. All things Hermione didn't know, and now needed a solution for.

With Hermione's waist-length, thick, curly hair, it was a huge challenge to fix. They wound parts of her hair around her head twice, plaited and weaved other placed, and finally managed to teach her how to squeeze her hair tight against her head in lavish and thick plaits for a strangely Victorian updo that could accommodate the plum headpiece. Her hair was wrapped around her head twice in some areas and still hung from a heavy weaved bun in the back of her head, for Merlin's sake. Her head hurt just form how much tugging it took to fix it into position. Seriously, how far back in time _was_ Wizarding society? Leave out the women if their hair isn't contained and above the shoulders but Mr. Malfoy was allowed his long girlish hair? So medieval and barbaric. Her hair was pretty since her change, but now she just wanted to chop it off to avoid doing this again.

Apparently, women had a huge number of rules regarding their dress for Wizengamot meetings that, if violated, could lead to any man in the room motioning for her removal. They couldn't fight in duels for their seat, they needed to be married if they were past age twenty-five, and the couldn't make changes to bills without another House's support. Hair had to be fastened back and no part of it could reach past the shoulder. Women also had to wear the Wizengamot headdress, so they couldn't have it pulled up even midway on their heads, it had to be a low-hanging design.

While Daphne was helping her with her thick mane, Draco and Pansy went over the voting divisions in the Wizengamot, and how people could be expected to vote on certain topics, and then on how a person (mostly a woman) could be banned from taking their Wizengamot seat.

"It almost never happens," Malfoy explained. "For guys, it takes a prison sentence, insanity, or proof of corruption, like paying or accepting bribes. And then, if they are reported, they're replaced by their equally immoral offspring, brother, cousin, or what-have-you. It's usually not worth it for the person moving for dismissal."

Hermione groaned. "How does the wizarding world change at all?"

"It doesn't," Pansy confirmed. "Women get dismissed more often, but it's usually only for a session. If they forget to wear their House jewels, or if they're missing their robes, or if their hair isn't just so. You can get banned if you sleep with anyone currently on the Wizengamot, no matter if you're single and courting them or anything."

"Ugh," Hermione groaned.

"At least you understand," Pansy shrugged. "Now, how to address the other families."

They stayed with her all night, much to her surprise. Helgy brought biscuits and tea and food when they needed it, but they still got tired a lot faster than Hermione, and she felt badly for them. If she didn't need the training so much, she would have insisted they head to bed. Still, they helped her and loaned her a dress for the session, tutored her to the point of insanity over manners, etiquette and protocol in the W Chamber, and helped her with how she comported herself.

When morning came, they sent her off with an offhand comment informing her she was as prepared as they could make her on such short notice and a list of things she needed to buy in Diagon Alley before the session.

"Seriously, don't get banned, Granger," Pansy said flatly. "We didn't spend an all-nighter on politics just so you could screw it up. I have to go beg some pepper-up potion from Theo today, so you just make sure it was worth it, okay?"

"I'll be careful," Hermione promised. "The House of Aethon thanks you for your service, and wishes to regard you all as friends."

That evoked smiles from the three Slytherins.

"We thank you, and wish to be allies of your House," Pansy said with a tired bow of her head. "You learned something, at least."

"Well, she learned how to be a pureblooded Gryffindor," Draco said with a tired grin. "Get going, Granger. And, when in doubt, shut your mouth."


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

* * *

"Headmaster?" Hermione asked, popping her head into the office. Dumbeldore was at his desk, dressed in a happy turquoise number. "You wanted to see me before I go?"

"Yes, come in." She closed the door and sat in the padded chair in front of his desk. "I actually have a request for you. For some time, we've been guarding the Department of Mysteries during the nighttime, when the Ministry is empty. We need to protect the prophecy from Tom. Too much information, and he could see what is needed to win his end."

"And you'd like me to take a shift?" Hermione offered happily. "Since I'm there anyways?"

"Yes, precisely," Dumbledore smiled. "We always have two, and tonight Arthur would have been alone in his patrol. It would bring me immense relief to have you there with him."

"Of course, sir," she accepted. "Anything else?"

He grinned. "Just enjoy the bureaucracy, Miss Granger. It is a singular experience."

* * *

"Thank you for the rush order, Madame Malkins," Hermione said gratefully as she deposited the package of plum robes into her satchel. "And for promising to keep it a secret until tomorrow. I had no idea these were so important."

"It's alright, dear," the woman grinned conspiratorially and leaned forward. "I don't often get a chance to make Wizengamot robes nowadays, you know – it's all rich families putting in orders to foreign seamstresses with fancy fabrics. I'm just glad to be asked."

She was just the first of her morning pickups. Hermione looked at her list and took to a fancy office supply store called _Scribbulus_. The girls had strongly suggested getting a proper quill to use in the meetings and a set of memo paper that she could use to pass notes during the meeting. She settled on a clear self-inking glass dip pen with five inkbottles to the set. Hogwarts mandated quills, so she did the little rebellion she could and went for a non-feathered alternative. Once again, to show her unwillingness to conform. She payed for the pen and a small stack of pink memo paper before going on to her next venture.

It took time she didn't have to collect everything she needed, from a set of law books from _Flourish and Blotts_ to a dagger that she had stored in her goblin-apartment _._ According to Draco an Pansy, each family needed a specific dagger that was only for making family alliances, contracts, blood feuds, or such. Luckily daggers had been one of her first exercises with the forge, and so she still had her favourite tucked away in her goblin house that she could use. It even had her forging signature, which magically meant it was stronger in her hands anyways.

When she finished collecting the dagger, she chose to change into her dress there at Gringotts instead of inside the Ministry. She really was short on time.

First her formal dress for underneath the plum robes. Fortunately, they weren't required to wear dress-robes underneath like the men, as women, but they still needed to dress formally and have sleeves to their wrists and a skirt to the ankles. To counter it, Daphne had given her one of her white dresses. Pansy was closer to her size, so she wondered why Daphne gave her a dress, but she understood when she wore it. It was _tight._ The white dress was supposed to be all innocence and modesty, but it clung tightly and her cleavage didn't truly fit in it, so it popped out the top more than necessary.

Pansy and Daphne had been thrilled, telling her that, since women weren't allowed to put on the official robes until she claimed her seat, she would go in there dressed looking like hell and give some of those horny, old purebloods a hear-attack. The only changes they made to the dress was to lengthen the sleeves and skirt to make sure she wasn't ejected, and then to add a thigh-high slit, something the men hadn't remembered to forbid. It was a subtle bit of rebellion against their dress code, but one that she couldn't be ejected for.

She strapped on her heels and silver topaz and mystic quartz goblin jewellery, took a final moment to be astounded that there were such extreme requirements for claiming Wizengamot seats, and tucked her wand into the holster on her inner thigh, the only place she could. She felt part annoyed at the traditions, and part like an assassin ready to take them all out.

Finally dressed and done up for her grand entrance, she made her way to the Ministry.

Apparently, Wizengamot members, once they claimed their seats, were able to hook their homes up to the Ministry floo so they needn't go through the toilets like the 'menial' workers. Unfortunately, or deliberately, the Ministry claimed that other people needed to use the visitor's entrance in London. Yet another barrier to people collecting their seats – they had to formally announce themselves to a secretary and have restrictions put on their wands.

Still, undeterred, Hermione went on. Her dress and appearance, mixed with her leather satchel being strung across her in the most inelegant way, drew looks from the Minsitry workers as she was at the desk, allowing her wand to be charmed.

"And why are you here today, Apprentice Granger?" The girl asked, writing in her book.

She leaned closer and whispered, not wanting others to hear. "I'm hear to claim a seat in the Wizengamot, for today's session."

The young witch gaped up at her, suddenly taking in her dress and appearance. The girl smiled beatifically, suddenly having the best day on the job ever. She hopped up and down in her seat, as she recorded her reason for visiting and then bounced more as she smiled up at her. "That's so great! Can I see your wand?"

"I need to keep it," Hermione reminded the girl as she relinquished her wand to the girl.

"Absolutely," the girl said with a grin, placing a charm on the wand. "Alright, so the alarms won't activate while you're on this floor and Level 2, wear you'll find the session starts. If the Wizengamot needs to make an urgent move to the courtrooms on level ten, please bring it back to us and we'll remove the charm, okay?"

"Thank you," Hermione said, placing the wand back in her thigh strap.

The girl extended her hand and she clasped it for a shake. "I hope they don't find any reason to deny you your seat, Apprentice. It'd be good to have a muggleborn in there for the first time."

Hermione marched determinedly to the lifts, ignoring the balking and staring that some of the Ministry employees were doing. She didn't have time to defend her choice in clothing to them, or address how rude it was of them to stare; Wizengamot was supposed to convene in ten minutes, and those who were there to claim their seats needed to be standing in the center before the beginning of the session to declare their intent.

Hermione shared the lift with a couple of aurors, one who tried to hit on her and was determinedly brushed off, before she got of on Level Two. There were a few plum-covered people waiting by the elevator, and it didn't take her intellect to see that they were waiting for the first glimpse of whoever was claiming the new seat.

"Good morning."

Hermione dipped into the polite curtsy Daphne had drilled into her before resuming her march. There were gasps and wide eyes as she passed them to go straight to the Wizengamot council room, her back straight and her focus on remembering the wordage Draco had taught her. She paused right before the doors, took a deep breath, and pushed in.

The room was opulent, too much for Hermione's tastes. Comfy chairs placed on exceptionally high platforms to lord over those on the main level, heavy, dark woods and sconces all over. The gold embellishments, dark wood, and plum-robes gave an air of regality that it did not deserve. She felt like she was protesting in her black dress.

Chin held high as the Wizengamot stared, she moved the satchel to her hand instead of the undignified way it rested across her body, and walked to the Wizengamot seal in the center of the room.

She stood on the seal and stared, challengingly, at the members around her. It was hard not to fidget under the unerring gaze of all the older members in the room. Those who had waited in the hallway now entered and took their seats and joined in the staring, like she was a part of some oddball show. Whispers and murmurs abounded, and eyes shifted between her and the seat of the far right, nearly at the end and right next to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Abbott's seat.

Fudge, sat high in his chair next to the Chief Warlock's seat (it had been vacant in Dumbledore's absence and they hadn't yet filled it) gave her a putrid look.

"Apprentice Granger, are you lost?" Fudge, asked, effectively silencing the congregation. "Perhaps, looking for someone?"

She smiled at the Minister. "Not at all, Minister. I'm simply waiting for the session to start so I can claim the seat for my House."

"And which house is that?" Fudge said with a stern eye. "You are a muggleborn! You can't possibly claim a House seat."

"Of course I can, Minister," Hermione answered elegantly. "Especially as the Founder of a House that has been recognized by the Ministry. But I'm sure this will all come up once the session begins, so there's no reason to fret."

When he started to whisper furiously to Percy, his secretary, Hermione looked at the assembly. Many unhappy faces were looking back at her, but she saw the genuinely gleeful ones too. Augusta Longbottom, whom she'd only seen through the stern renderings of Neville's photos, was looking like the cat who got the canary. Amelia Bones looked exceptionally proud to be there, like she was watching history. There were a few others she couldn't name, mostly women, who shot her smiles.

"Very well, then, shall we begin?" Fudge called. When no one protested, he hit his gavel. "The Twelfth Meeting of Wizengamot, Year 1995, is now in session. Is there any who wish to resign or claim their seat?"

Hermione spoke, trying to portray clear confidence. "I, Hermione Jean Granger, am here to claim the seat for House Aethon as the Lady and Founder of said House. Do any contest my claim?"

Silence. Only someone of her blood could contest her for her seat, and there were none. Normally only the Noble and Most Ancient House's matriarchs were called ladies, but since she was the first in her House's line she would always in history be known as Lady Aethon, where all her line would simply be Miss or Mister.

When the allotted ten seconds of painstaking silence had passed, Hermione continued.

"Then let the magic of my House recognize me."

She walked up the steps to the far right side of the Wizengamot, to the seat they'd all been looking at and walked past Lady Abbott. Lord Avery looked livid at having her seated next to him, but held his tongue. Without ceremony or a baited breath, she sat down in the chair for House Aethon.

A breath of pause, a waiting to see if she would be sent across the room by the magic of her House, and then …. pandemonium. Death Eaters she knew and racists she didn't stood up to protest, to move to remove her, or to find some fault with her that could ban her. Surprisingly, she saw Malfoy sit stoically and silently. He did nothing. He did not rise to defend her and did not raise his voice to have to removed. He sat there, his eyes fixed on her as if she didn't make any sense. For once, they seemed to agree.

"Order! Order!" The Minister cried, pounding his gavel. Then once more, and again when they wouldn't stop shouting.

"Is it always this loud?" Hermione asked Lady Abbott.

The woman gave her a smile. "You hold the firsts for many things, Apprentice Granger. This, however, is not one of them."

They shared her smile then turned all attention back to the settling Wizengamot.

"Order!" Fudge shouted a final time, getting the assembly to finally lower their voices. "Now, Hermione Granger has been accepted by the magic of the newly formed House Aethon, and will be allowed to don the official Wizengamot robes. Miss Granger, do you have your robes? You will be dismissed from the meeting until the next session if not."

Giving the conceited purebloods a bit of a show, she rose and bend over her satchel to extricate the headdress and robes from her bag. She donned the robes first before placing the headdress on top of her crown of compressed and plaited curls. The room both glared and grinned at her as she took her seat once again.

"Erm, well," Fudge stammered, clearly having hoped she'd forgotten something, "Miss Granger, do you even have a House Crest or House Jewels?"

"I founded my House, Minister," Hermione reminded him firmly. "What you see on my person are my House's Crest and Jewels. And I'll remind you, Minister, that it is proper to address me as Apprentice Granger or Lady Aethon."

The assembly was quiet. The Minister turned to Percy, consulting quietly, before popping his head up. "Umm, yes, Apprentice Granger, all seems to be in order. We just have to check to make sure your family crest and motto are unique to the others on record."

Hermione took the paper that Draco had used to draw the final version of her crest upon and passed it forward, sending it up to the Minister. "You'll find that the Crest is unique, and that no other House, whether new or Ancient and Noble, has my motto, Minister."

"Ah, yes, well, my Latin's a tad rusty," the Minister stammered apologetically. "What does your motto mean?"

" _Causarum justia et misericordia_ ," Hermione recited, her latin flawlessly presented to the Wizengamot. "'For the cause of justice and mercy'. I'm sure you'll agree it is dissimilar to any motto currently used by the members of Wizengamot."

"Very good, and yes, a very original crest as well," the Minister agreed reluctantly, passing the paper back through the crowd. He conferred with Percy once more, trying to find any way to remove her from the meeting.

"Does her Master know where she is?" A dark voice came from the middle of the room. She saw the plaque on the wood in front, a read NOTT. "Is it even safe to have an Apprentice here when her Master could order her votes for her?"

"There is no law to say an Apprentice cannot claim a seat, Lord Nott," Lady Longbottom interjected before Hermione could. "Imagine the discord that would have brought back in the day. Why, my parents generation all used to apprentice in something or other."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Lady Longbottom. And Lord Nott, I assure you my Master is well aware of my comings and goings. He _is_ the one teaching my Potions classes today so I could attend."

"Aha!" The Minister exclaimed, hoisting up a book to his platform. "Apprentice Granger, can you present your House Elf to the Wizengamot to prove your affiliation?"

"Which one?" She asked nonchalantly. "My House currently has four elves attending it."

"Erm, any of them," Fudge stammered, looking more and more defeated.

She stood. "Helgy!" The elf popped into existence, having already been left with the other elves at the beginning of the day for just such an occurrence.

"Yes, Mistress?" Helgy asked happily.

"Tell Minister Fudge which house you serve," Hermione ordered gently.

Helgy looked at the Minister. "I is serving House Aethon."

"Tell the Minister who founded the House," Hermione ordered further.

"Mistress Hermione dids!" Helgy said with a wiggle of her finger. "She is accepting Helgy as elf and is offering her magics to Helgy and friends. Mistress Hermione is friend of elf-kin!"

Hermione shushed the elf as its words grew less provoked. "Enough Helgy. You can head back to the other waiting elf-kin."

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," Helgy said with an ear flap before popping out of existence.

Hermione looked up to Fudge, who was even more fervently flipping through the pages. "Minister, I trust you have all the sufficient evidence you need? There are no other claimants to this seat, as I am the only one with magic in my family, and I have provided everything a House needs to be inspected by you, form my Crest to my elf. May we proceed with the session?"

"Ah, there is one more clause," Percy interjected, showing the passage to the Minister. Fudge read the passage with glee.

"'All claimants must be of age'," Fudge read to the room, eyes now swiveling to her. "Miss Granger, you were born only sixteen years ago, and the current Ministry has elected that 'of age' means seventeen. You are not of age to claim your House's seat."

"The Department of Mysteries, the Trace office, or even a mediwitch, can resolve that issue for you Minister," Hermione said kindly, her face smiling but her gut tense. She definitely did not want a mediwitch revealing her age to the room. "During my third year, I was given unrestricted access to a time-turner to facilitate my taking extra classes. My physical age is above seventeen, as evidenced by the fact that I have not had the Trace on me for quite some time."

The room floundered, and someone was sent to retrieve someone from both Departments. Fudge called for a brief recess.

She was already tense from the exchange, so she jumped a little when a hand was lain on her arm. Mrs. Abbott gave her a sweet and comforting smile. "You are doing well."

"I knew they'd try to stop me," Hermione offered in explanation. "I had to be prepared to fight for this."

"Which you did. Although, for a moment you really had us all with the House-Elf clause," Lady Abbott said with a grin. "Most of us had heard stories of your renegade elven freedom campaign."

She groaned. "Does everyone know about that?"

"It was used as an example of why muggleborns are detrimental for society," the Lady confided, "and of why there should be a Magical Society Studies class at Hogwarts, from each respective side."

"Great," Hermione lamented. "Even before I arrived, I caused ripples."

While the room was discussing and waiting for the messengers to return, some members shuffled up to Hermione to make their introductions. Some were kind, and some …

"Lord Nott," Hermione curtsied deftly. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Your son is quite an intelligent boy."

"And he has presented himself to you, I take it?" the elder Nott said, taking her extended hand and lavishing a long, but barely present kiss on the back.

Hermione dropped her hand and adopted a fake smile. "Yes, I was quite honoured by his attention."

"As you should be," the elder Nott said firmly, his eyes tense for a moment before returning to utterly fake congeniality. "However, if you'd be open to discussing the matter of your betrothal, I have a much more pleasant option for a Lady such as yourself."

"Oh?" Hermione intoned, barely keeping her Occlumency stable. "And what's that?"

"Someone of experience," he said, a leer now etched on his face. "A girl like you needs a firm hand, and someone whose lineage will not suffer with the connection to your House. As such … Apprentice Granger, Lady of House Aethon, I present myself, Thurston Nott, to you as current Head of my House, the Ancient and Most Noble House of Nott."

The area around her silenced, and the Elder Nott gave her a terrifying smile. She had just been, er, presented to by a Death Eater. The phraseology sounded dirty.

Although it wasn't a proposal, it was the first step to a betrothal contract. Malfoy had told her that a reply with her own introduction was an acknowledgment of the presentation. She didn't want to accept, acknowledge, or even consider this terrifying man for anything besides the end of her wand. But … she couldn't offend a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, not when the smallest error could eject her from the meetings.

Forcing a smile on her face, Hermione stepped closer. "Lord Nott," she murmured, her voice dangerous and low, "I acknowledge your presentation, and introduce myself in turn as is customary. However, know that if you are looking at me like a helpless little mudblood to show off to your Lord, you have another thing coming."

She must have been a titch too loud, because the closest seats seemed to be gaping at her. Either because she'd called herself such an offensive slur, or because of the obvious mention of Voldemort, she wasn't sure.

Thurston Nott tensed under the public scrutiny and gave her a reproachful glare. "You must be either ignorant or mad to say such a thing to me, girlie."

The tension raised significantly, their gazes leveled at each other in hateful glares. Ending the glaring contest, the elder Nott bowed and extended his hand. Hermione returned the gesture, letting him kiss her hand once more before he strode back to his seat in a tense march. Lady Abbott touched her arm to regain her attention.

"That was dangerous, Apprentice Granger," the Lady said softly. "Thurston is from a Noble and Most Ancient House, and he is not known to take insults lightly."

"I know it probably wasn't the safest response," Hermione said with a frown. "But what else was I supposed to do? Openly acknowledge his presentation when I can only consider hexing the man?"

"It was brilliant, girl," Augusta Longbottom said, hobbling forward. "Nott will think twice about approaching you in public, and that is a happy outcome in any scenario."

"Unless he goes after her in private," Lady Abbott interjected, sending Lady Longbottom a tired look that said _I really can't change your mind, but I wish I could._ "Apprentice, you really should hold your tongue. It wasn't a matter of marrying him, rather of politely accepting his presentation and refusing any future betrothal jewellery."

Hermione tried to look serious and chastised, but a smile escaped and she had to cover her mouth to hide the evidence. Lady Longbottom looked delightedly at her.

"Now, don't be afraid of her, little lioness," Augusta said with a teasing poke of her cane. "Little Dayna is simply repressed."

Lady Abbott sighed and took her seat again, clearly intent on letting Hermione handle the crotchety Longbottom matriarch on her own. Seeing this, Hermione defaulted to what Malfoy had taught her.

"Oh, erm, pleasure to meet you, Lady Longbottom," Hermione curtsied again only to be met with a cane to the shin. "Oww! What was that for?"

"You were groveling," Lady Longbottom huffed. "And no 'Lady Longbottom' between us, girl. Call me Augusta."

"Alright, Augusta," she repeated. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"We all know your name, girl," Augusta remanded. "Moreso now that you've had a Head of a House present himself to you. I wonder how many others will do the same."

"Hopefully, none," Hermione chimed in with a grimace. "I know they're kind of ordered to get close to me, but still … I knew I should have worn a less clingy dress."

That comment prompted a diabolical chuckle from Lady Longbottom. "Heavens, no. Hermione, these men haven't had such a pretty lady in front of them in decades. If your hair was down, you would have killed at least three of these old codgers."

"And have been promptly shown from the room," she countered, smiling at the witticism of the Lady. "How on earth do you manage to follow all the horrible rules for this place?"

"Ah, most of us were taught from birth to follow these rules whenever we go out in public," Augusta admitted. "Always have your crest on you, always have a house-elf with you, never wear your hair down, etc. This whole place is centered around traditions that purebloods have grown up with."

"There are half-bloods in the assembly though," Hermione noted.

The old lady nodded tightly. "And they have to learn, or they can't sit in. Honestly, the amount of half-bloods in here is next to nothing since any pureblood relative of the line can take their seat, no matter the lineage."

"That's barbaric!" Hermione exclaimed, earning looks from the surrounding members. She flushed, and repeated the sentiment at a lower volume. "How on earth has that law not been repealed?"

"Because its purebloods who vote on a repeal," Augusta said sagely. "And blood purists who sit all over."

"Wow," Hermione looked around at all the people she'd need to go through. "There's a lot of changes to make, huh?"

The old matriarch chuckled. "You're a good one, girl. Don't let the naysayers in this place drown that spirit of yours."

Augusta went back to her seat, and it seemed as if her presence had been the only thing protecting her from the Death Eaters of the Wizengamot. The Heads of each House whose sons had presented to her yesterday were all coming up to greet her, threaten her, or subtly discourage her. A few, like Nott, presented themselves to her as well, usually to keep her from their sons so they could have a chance at a continued pure legacy.

She had already angered one Death Eater with her sharp tongue, and although Augusta seemed happy that she had, Hermione refrained from mentioning Voldemort again and returned most of the presentations with polite disinterest. She still rejected the Avery outright when he'd belittled her parents, but the more temperate and overtly polite single Death Eaters – like Selwyn, Rowle, and Carrow– she couldn't reject without seeming a cad. Amycus Carrow seemed to act kindly just so he could see her distasteful expression as she acknowledged him. The act had brought a sick glee to his face. Was the whole thing just a game among the Death Eaters?

Lord Duncan Greengrass was the most disturbing, although not because he was vulgar or crass with her. He was Sacred Twenty-Eight, and he acted like it. No, it was strange because of how Daphne had helped her the previous night. To have her friend's father hit on her was kind of disturbing, especially when she was in that daughter's dress and he didn't even notice.

Before the day Hermione had no idea that Lord Greengrass was a widower, but it seemed fairly common among the purebloods after the previous war. Even Augusta Longbottom ad Dayna Abbott were widows who never remarried. It was as if all the purebloods who already had children would never consider remarrying.

Still, Lord Greengrass came up to her when she had a moment alone, all fineries and short-ish sandy hair. She had become good at rebutting prospective presenters, but was caught off-guard by the sheer height and power of this man and how he towered over her. Hermione wasn't small since her change, but Lord Greengrass was easily six-foot. She wouldn't have been tongue-tied by that, if he hadn't been using his height advantage to look down her dress. The dress that his own daughter, Daphne, had loaned her. It felt … various levels of wrong.

"Never thought I would be ordered to present myself to such a gorgeous little lady," he said, his eyes travelling up and down her body. "I would have done it without the order."

Hermione held herself straighter and composed herself. "I almost think you mean that as a compliment, where I only hear an insult."

"My humble apologies, my Lady. I only meant to tell you how beautiful you look."

She kept her face blank. "Thank you."

"Allow me to present myself to you, Lady Aethon," he performed a deep bow. "Duncan Greengrass, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Greengrass, and undeniably at your beck and call."

His tone made her cheeks turn red, both from rage and embarrassment. She was sure what he'd like her to call him for, but she had no reason to refuse to acknowledge him. "A pleasure, Lord Greengrass. I'm Hermione Granger, Lady of House Aethon."

At her acknowledgement, he took her hand and lavished his unwanted attention all over the back of her hand in a way that made her stomach turn.

"You know, _Lady_ Aethon," he drawled, "you look beautiful in your House Jewels. It's a pity your hand is so bare."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh?" It came out as more of a squeak, making her flush. "I mean, really, Lord Greengrass?"

His eyes lighted. "Of course, my Lady. As such a Head of House of marrying age, you should already have a husband to put a ring on your finger and an heir in your womb."

Her stomach plummeted, but she kept her tone light. "I'm afraid my, er, heir will need to wait some time, my Lord, if I don't want pregnancy to conflict with my Apprenticeship. Potions is a demanding and dangerous field."

 _And I'm already committed to Severus_ , she added mentally. _Paws off._

"Even so," the Death Eater grinned down at her. "The Greengrass jewels would go well with your own; an emerald would be beautiful on your dainty little ring finger. Look for my owl."

She pulled her hand from his grip and made to refuse, but he shushed her while pointing to the front of the room, where Fudge had re-entered. "That's our cue."

He strode off to his own seat then with a wink, leaving her flustered and fuming. She didn't even realize her hands were clenched into balls until Lady Abbott leaned over the seat of her own chair to engage her.

"Are you alright, Apprentice Granger?" she whispered.

"I'm fine," she insisted, clenching and unclenching her fists. "Just … trying not to think about it too much."

Lady Abbott patted her hand comfortingly. "Do you know why they're all presenting themselves to you?"

"Yes," Hermione clenched her fist again. "I'm just ignoring it, though. If I refuse all these creeps, nothing will happen."

"True, true," Lady Abbott said with a kind smile. "Be warned, however, that many of the men here do not do well with rejection. You must be careful, at least until you have a suitor to fall back on."

Hermione's response died in her throat as the gavel was struck and the session brought back from its recess. Fudge appeared angry, but presented the official from the Trace office and an Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries to the room.

"I can confirm that the Department of Mysteries lent a time-turner to the student Hermione Granger during the 1993-1994 school year," The Unspeakable said to the assembly.

The Trace office official came forward with a paper. "And I have the generated office memo showing the Trace on Hermione Jean Granger deactivating on the eleventh of May this year due to age restrictions being met, confirming her age as above the legal requirement, and recognized as such by the Ministry."

The page was taken by Fudge and scanned furiously, but still given to Percy without another word.

"You're dismissed," Fudge sent the men on their way with a scowl. "It seems Apprentice Granger has fulfilled all requirements to take her seat. Does anyone have any reason not to move on with the session?"

There were no protests, and Fudge smacked his gavel. "We recognize the Lady Aethon as claimant of her House's seat, and welcome her to the Wizengamot. Apprentice Granger, you will henceforth receive additional summons to court proceedings where the full Wizengamot is required and emergency sessions. You have the right not to appear to any session.

"Moving on to the assigned topics for today's sitting: proposed changes in legislation and the new debt ceiling for the Ministry."

The legislative changes were mostly useless. There was discrimination on every level, but the changes never addressed them and instead focused on tightening Ministry control. She voted against every single change, sometimes even shifting the balance of votes and denying the move.

She did vote favourably once, when the man who sat at the MacDougal seat proposed the clear and well-thought out plan to put together a muggle-friendly branch of the Ministry where they could use electricity, computers, and other forms of muggle technology without magic ruining them. As tomorrow they were voting on debt increase for the Ministry, unfortunately, his proposal was ill-timed and met with accusations of wastefulness. His proposal was not passed.

By the end of the first day of the session, Hermione was mentally exhausted. She was looking forward to her nightly walk and desperate to restore herself. With a few hours left until the guards left the Ministry and she'd be on duty for the Order, she decided to slip away to Grimmauld Place where she was certain Sirius wouldn't mind lending her his private garden to recharge and her summer bedroom to change out of Daphne's skin-tight dress.

Spending time with Sirius was fun. He kept her company while she sat in the garden and recharged, and told her about the developments between Remus and Tonks. Apparently Remus had tried to take her on a date and had being so nervous he could hardly speak. Tonks, however, had ended that nervousness by tripping all over herself and launching all the food he made on the both of them. Hermione giggled at her visualization, and Sirius assured her she wasn't far off.

She did, however, ask about Severus.

"I never asked this before," she started about an hour in, "but why do you and Severus hate each other?"

Sirius sneered, but checked himself at her disapproving expression. "Claws in, kitten, I know you're protective over the bat. _Claws in, woman!_ Nothing really happened. I mean, when we were in school it was kind of like it is now; Slytherins and Gryffindors at each others throat. I'm pretty sure we might have started it, or at least come in a few years after. Most of the Slytherins were becoming Death Eaters, and with all the deaths and stuff the other houses avoided them, and we Gryffindors tried to teach them they couldn't get away with anything because of their _daddies._

"Sni-Severus," he corrected at her glare, "always had to make things worse. Getting us with his potions, sneering at all of us … we probably took the war out on him one too many times, but it wasn't as if we knew he was going to turn spy. All his little pals are still Death Eaters, and I regret not getting in more shots before the signed on."

"So you justify being massive bullies and horrible kids because you think you were right about all of the kids you bullied?" Hermione reprimanded him, her glare fixed on her face. "Did it ever occur to you that people tend to be what people think they are? Everyone assumed they'd be Death Eaters and treated them that way; of course they were going to do it! It wouldn't have been a change for them! They might have even been treated better! That is a piss-poor excuse and you know it, Sirius Black!"

Sirius became more hunched over. "Sorry, kitten. It's just … they're Death Eaters, right? Why should I feel sorry for them?"

"By feeling sorry that they have to follow a tyrannical, nose-less leader?" Hermione joked, trying to bring Sirius back out of his melancholy. She earned a snort. "They're people too, Sirius. They're not pure evil, probably. They might be in it for their families, or because they really believe that pureblood bigotry. I doubt they're doing this because they _want_ everyone running from them in terror. Although, Bellatrix might."

"I loved my father. I was brave enough to ask the hat for Gryffindor, but not brave enough to stay in the house where my best friend died, not even to make sure Harry was okay," Sirius' voice broke. "That's why I don't understand; a coward and a loving Death Eater son, and I still left. If I could do it, leave, they have no excuse."

* * *

When the time came, she hugged Sirius goodbye with a promise to visit and returned to the Ministry. Because no one was allowed in the Ministry overnight, they hid in Arthur's office until the time came to patrol.

"I'll take the main floor," Arthur told her. "Why don't you patrol the hallways around the Department? Can you send a patronus message?"

Hermione blushed at remembering how that ended. "Yes, sir."

"Arthur," he insisted kindly. "Good. If anything happens, or if there's anything suspicious, I want you to send for my straight away, alright? Can you cast a corporeal?"

She knew why he was asking. "It's a winged horse, if I need to send it to you. But I can deal with anything they send at me."

"Don't try to handle things on your own if you can help it, Hermione. You're like a daughter to me. I wouldn't want you hurt."

"I'll be fine, Arthur," she reassured him. "I doubt they'd try anything in the Ministry."

"They probably wouldn't personally," he admitted, "but you remember the news about Broderick Bode?"

Hermione grimaced. A Ministry employee made mad by a curse in the Department of Mysteries, although no one knew why he was there in the first place. Severus had told her he'd been imperiosed.

"I'll be careful," Hermioone replied. "Now go."

It was quiet in an unnerving way around the Department of Mysteries. She kept her wand lit and her steps light, regardless of the silencing rune on her boots. This place was creepy in the dark of the deserted Ministry.

After a few hours, she checked in with Arthur and started to get less anxious and careful. Once 1 AM hit, she was certain there wouldn't be a fight tonight. Then, with a start, her magic started to crawl through her body in warning.

She moved quickly, patrolling along the hallways with renewed vigour. The feeling grew stronger, and a pain started to grow in her mind and magic similar to when she'd found the diadem. Her hands began to shake from pain. With a determined focus, she sent her patronus to Arthur and looked for the cause of her pain.

It grew as she approached the Ministry stairs, to the point where she was gasping for breaths like they would help her contain the ever-growing pain. The stairs appeared empty, and she leaned over the bannister to look up and down to try and spot whoever was coming.

"Hermione!" Her wand was pointed at the doorway in an instant, her magic on edge. She lowered it slightly when he appeared. He wasn't the source of the pain. "What did you find?"

"Something's coming," Hermione hissed, her voice low. "I don't know what it is, but it's dark and its moving towards me."

Arthur didn't question how she knew, just raised his own lit wand to the stairs.

"Up or down?" Arthur asked, his voice a whisper but grave.

She focused, trying to find the source of her pain.

"Up," she finally determined.

They moved together up the stairs, on a hunt now. She was sure Mr. Weasley thought it was some beast, a basilisk or a dementor sent by Voldemort. Hermione thought it must be a person. The signature felt similar to Harry, the darkness mixed with something more. Who else had Voldemort possessed?

They never saw her coming.

One moment Hermione was focused on the pain, trying to figure out where it was as they became close to the target. The next, Arthur Weasley was on the ground with a huge, huge snake attached to his neck. She sent of stunners, immobilizers, a very precise cutting hex, but the snake merely reared back and bit Arthur again. It was ignoring her, and going straight for the kill.

"Run!" Arthur roared. The snake went in to attack again, and a well-timed protego from her rebuffed the snake's head. "Go!"

"I'm not leaving you!" Hermione yelled, moving between Arthur's mauled form and the snake. She raised her wand to defend herself from the next attack, not even sure she'd be quick enough to stop it.

Her magic had a solution. It moved to defend her from the dark serpent, raising firm golden shield just in time to throw the snake back and away from Hermione and the injured Arthur. It seemed human-like as it stared at the shield that bounced it away, then at her. As if realizing how fruitless fighting her would be, the snake popped out of existence.

She felt her curiousity at the snake grow, but her focus was on the grunt of pain from the Weasley patriarch at her feet. She dropped to her knees and took in the gushing blood coming from his neck. She tried to heal him, like she had Remus at the last full moon. She should have been able to, or at least able to feel where to darkness started and ended, but she couldn't. She couldn't even sense what was wrong to fix it. Hopelessness started to set in; her powers were useless to heal him.

"Hold on, hold on," she murmured, more to herself than Arthur. She _tergeo_ ed Arthur's blood into a vial, hoping some small portion of venom was in there so she could identify it. She accioed her dittany from her satchel and started dropping the healing potion on the neckbite. It sizzled, half closed the wound, and then reopened. She was amazed, but focused on finding some solution. A blood replenisher was put to Arthur's lips so she could be sure he wouldn't bleed out too quickly.

She tried dittany one more time, on both bites, and then moved on. She wrapped bandaged around his neck and arm, trying to stop the bleeding and then stuffed the vials in her bag.

"We have to get you to the hospital," Hermione told him urgently. He was fully awake, but she knew he couldn't walk as quickly as she could run, and a _mobilicorpus_ would keep him with her as she hurried.

She ran past the Ministry portraits, earning questions about the body she had in tow. As she reached the floos, Kingsley appeared in one of the fireplace.

"What-?"

"He needs a mediwitch!" Hermione called. "I can't stop the bleeding!"

Kingsley immediately came to her side and hauled Arthur to the floo with his more obvious strength. They flooed quickly, both worried by the seeping red coming through the white bandages.

"We need help!" Hermione called the moment they were in the lobby. The nurses behind the desk looked up and stared at Arthur for a moment, making Hermione angry. "Get this man a doctor, and a potion Master! He's been bitten!"

The nurses sprung into action. Waiting patients were told to wait, and a pair of healers ran out of whatever room they were in to take Arthur. Hermione followed, ignoring the protests from one of the nurses.

"I was there for the attack," Hermione said cuttingly. "I can save you a lot of trouble finding out what happened. Are you going to fight me while he's DYING?!"

They let her follow, more intent on getting Mr. Weasley into a room. While one doctor tried to work on Mr. Weasley and stop the bloodflow, the other interrogated her on what happened, hoping to get information that would help treat him. She gave them the vial she'd collected, described the snake, and hoped.

When she'd seen that no treatment was working, she couldn't bear it. Making her apologies to the unconscious Arthur, she left his room in tears for the pseudo-father. Any hope of nobody seeing her breakdown flew out the window as she ran right into the waiting room, where the Weasleys had all congregated.

Molly looked so teary that Hermione felt her own tears stop and a choking take over her throat. This man was his _wife_. Hermione had called him to face the unknown dark magic, _she'd_ been the reason the snake had been anywhere near the kindly man. The guilt that she hadn't known she carried in her heart threatened to tear her apart.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed hoarsely. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

"How is Arthur?" Molly warbled, her voice distorted through her tears.

Hermione felt the tears come again. "They can't identify the venom; it's destroying his blood cells and the wound isn't closing. They're feeding him blood-replenisher every hour to counteract it, but the potions . . . they won't work forever."

The heartbreak on everyone's faces was enough. Ron looked like he was going to be sick, Charlie had gotten up and punched a wall, which Bill took gently and fixed with a morose smile, Ginny started crying with her mother, and Fred and George looked more serious than she'd ever seen them. There was no Percy.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said again, her heart breaking at the pseudo-mother's tears. "I should have been the one bit. I should never have called Arthur to help me. I should have been able to heal him! I don't know why I couldn't! I'm so sorry."

She should have been bitten. Anything but this crushing guilt. Her failure to perform his healing was wracking through her like a destructive wave of self-doubt, anxiety, and shame.

Ron came and wrapped her up in his arms, and she returned the hug desperately. They all sat together in the waiting room, alternatively crying and mourning and pacing. Twice, Bill took it on himself to make a food run and force (literally, at times) the group to eat.

Hermione knew what he was doing, even if he didn't; he was preparing to take care of his family if their father didn't make it. He was preparing mentally as the oldest to take care of the family. He was starting to resign himself to his father's death. When Hermione realized this, she cried anew.

Most of the Order came to sit with Weasley family as well, each offering comfort and meaningless reassurance that was received with tears and gratitude from the Weasley matriarch. Dumbledore stopped in briefly, to appraise himself of the situation. As he was about to leave, Hermione took him to the side.

"Sir, that snake-"

He raised his hand to stop her, his face grave. "I know, Miss Granger. I do not yet know how we are going to kill it, but I do know what it is."

Hermione nodded, then looked towards the room mournfully.

"Are you going to get Harry? He'd want to be here."

Dumbledore sighed, and looked to her with a resigned look in his face. "He cannot be a part of this. Officially, it is because young Harry's not a member of the Weasley family and Umbridge would contest the decision to let him leave the school for a 'family emergency' that is not directly his."

Hermione jaw tensed, just thinking about how Harry would have felt at that. "The unofficial reason?"

"Your friend had a dream of Mister Weasley's attack, and had to be told of your … condition," Dumbledore said in a low voice. Hermione gaped. "Exactly. His possession is more prominent when angered, as you know, Miss Granger, and right now he is angered at many things: his vision and connection to Tom, his exclusion from the Order, and your perceived betrayal of trust. I thought it best he have some time to process his emotions before I allowed him near Weasleys during this vulnerable time."

She slumped. "How am I going to explain this to him?"

It was further heartache on a hell of a night, her sadness growing with the news of Harry's anger. Dumbledore and Snape had both drilled into just how necessary it was to keep her abilities secret, especially from Harry, but it had weighed on her. She hoped he understood.

"I believe, if you explain truthfully, and perhaps give him some time, all will be well," he gave her a kindly smile, but it immediately dropped and revealed its faked assurance. "There is another issue this raises; I must ask you to always have an escort when you leave the castle."

"Wha-?" she blinked, then moaned in despair. "I knew there was something wrong with that snake!"

"She is linked to Tom," Dumbledore told her sadly. "Much like Harry. And if Harry saw your display of magic in the Ministry …"

"Then Voldemort probably saw too," Hermione finished in a whisper. She looked at Dumbledore frantically. "What if he figures it out? He'll know what I am? What will happen if he gets me?"

Dumbledore's eyes grew dark. "Our friend was … compelled to follow his orders through the use of her bondmate. After a time, she started to refuse, they killed him and attempted to do so to her. You must never tell anyone of your bonding with Severus."

When he left, there was nothing to distract her from her fear. Not until the early hours of the morning, when the tethers and magic she'd bound to Severus started screaming in alarm and warning.

There was nothing she could do, and it made the whole ordeal so much worse. Severus had been summoned, probably to answer for why Voldemort was only now hearing about her gifts. He was being tortured, she knew, and she could do nothing.

Her body thrummed sensitively as her bonds screamed, and any amount of touch only served to aggravate her. No hugs from Ron, no comforting pats from other Order members … Remus, with his pack bond, knew something was wrong with her and tried to help. She ended up fed chocolate and underneath Remus' jacket, just waiting for his torture to end. For the impulse to apparate right to him to die down.

It finally stopped as morning started to break, and she sagged against her friend and former Professor from the exertion. With the knowing look of pack, he took her into his arms and held her as she started to cry for worry over Severus, and Tonks lovingly patted Hermione's back to show she was okay with the pack-mates proximity.

Hermione just wanted her Severus.

Then, like a miracle, she felt Severus in the hospital. He didn't come to the Weasleys, but instead headed straight to Arthur's room. Her magic followed him, and she let herself be taken by the comfort of his presence.

Not a thirty minutes later, a mediwizard entered the waiting room. Those napping woke up immediately, and those awake were silent in their wait, eager for any news of their father and husband.

The man looked relieved, and everyone held their breath. "We managed to get enough venom out of his system to have an antidote made. His wounds were able to be stitched together and have started to scab, and the dark magic is clearing from his system. He'll need to stay here for a few days so we can ensure he's properly healing, and he'll have a couple of nasty scars, but he's stable and the worst seems to be over."

Molly cried tears of relief with Ginny, and the room seemed to take a huge breath of relief.

"Can we see him?" Charlie asked.

The mediwizard nodded, his face kind. "He's in a healing sleep right now, but you're free to come make sure he's alright."

Hermione let everyone else in the family go in, while she went to hunt the dark wizard. He was leaving the hospital, but she wasn't going to let him go without giving him _her_ thanks. Nobody else would know he'd helped Arthur, but she did. When he visited Arthur's room, for him to heal just minutes after, Hermione knew it was him.

She caught him as he walked towards the exit and promptly grabbed him and dragged him back.

"Apprentice," Snape snarled, "unhand me."

"Not today, not ever," Hermione replied, pulling him into the nearest closet. "You're mine, you brilliant, wonderful man."

When the doors clicked shut, she kissed him as fiercely as she could, showing him every ounce of awe and gratitude she felt for him. He was stiff and didn't respond at first, but he soon melted into her embrace and returned her fervour, stoking her with little licks of his tongue and hands traveling up into her shirt. The darkness and self-pity seemed to melt against this man, this wonderfully selfless man who loved _her_.

When they broke away, Hermione embraced him in a tight hug. "Thank you, so much. I'm know you found the antidote. Thank you."

She pulled back and looked at his tired eyes, her heart trembling. "I could feel it. He tortured you because of me, didn't he?"

"No," he grumbled, looking away.

 _Liar,_ Hermione thought. Regardless, she laid her palms over his chest and poured through her love and magic, throwing away the dark traces of the Cruciatus and stilling his shaking arms and violently seizing nerves. It felt better just knowing there was something she could do.

He took her in his arms, slumping slightly in relief and letting his occluding expression give way to his heart. "Thank you."

"I love you," she murmured.

"Far less than I love you, I'm sure." He captured her lips in a kiss. "You are too good for me, little witch."

She pushed against him and glared. "Severus, you just went through _torture_ for me! Why on earth would you think anyone is too good for you?"

When he opened his mouth to refute her, she silenced him with her mouth. They kissed in earnest, no longer hindered by hurting bonds or violent tremors, just enjoying the feeling of their lover being alive and safe.

Severus pulled away first, pushing his forehead against hers in an unforced kind of genuine intimacy. His eyes were pained. "I must go. After this confirmation of Potter's connection with the Dark Lord, Albus has tasked me with teaching your friend Occlumency."

"You need rest," Hermione frowned. "Can't it wait?"

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You gave me your energy, witch. I will be fine."

"Will Harry?" she asked, almost instantly regretting the question. "I'm sorry."

"It was a valid concern," he said stiffly. "You know that, so long as he is connected to the Dark Lord, I cannot reveal my true colours to the boy?"

"I know," she whispered sadly.

Severus nodded sternly. "I am, then, not the best teacher for the boy. He will not be able to clear his mind without the unbiased self-reflection that only true vulnerability can bring. He will not take to his lessons."

That was Severus. No _ifs_ about it, he knew without a doubt that Harry would never be vulnerable in his presence and was even less likely to open up on his own time. Hermione appreciated his bluntness, but her concern for Harry grew.

"Then, I should-" Hermione stopped. Harry hated her too at the moment. "Or Professor Dumbledore could-"

"Albus fears the part of the boy connected with the Dark Lord will present itself in the face of his greatest enemy," Severus told her. "While this could make him teaching the boy Occlumency a difficulty, there is also every chance that the Dark Lord would attempt to seize further control of Potter if regularly in Albus' presence. What better way to kill an enemy that to have his golden boy murder him? It would be too tempting for the Dark Lord to resist."

He drew her close and pressed a kiss into her temple. "You cannot either. While Albus informed the boy of your magical status, there is no reason for him to know your proficiency with Occlumency. That could only endanger me, and you by extension. I will try to help the boy, but I will not be kind."

Hermione nodded into his frock coat, her eyes starting to tear.

"And you," Severus announced, "must return to the legislative session."

"What? Why? I can't leave the Weasleys," Hermione protested.

"Arthur is in recovery now," he reassured her, "and you cannot do anything more for them. The best thing you can do is go to the session and present yourself as an infallible woman who will not be stopped."

Then, he hesitated. "Also, Umbridge was informed your absence was entirely based on the Wizengamot session. If you were to not appear, she would assume you had lied to me and promptly try to convince me to end your contract."

That horrible witch. Every day, Umbridge did something to prove that she was the worst sort of person imaginable – one with no morals, no scruples, and an ignorance that could only be from a stubborn determination _not_ to understand or learn.

"Will you be alright with her?" Hermione asked, worriedly. "She's doing even more assessments lately."

"I'm fine, little witch," Severus said, exasperated. "Now let go of my person so I can return to my delightful task of entering a possessed, hormonal teenager's miserable mind."

She leaned up and kissed underneath his jaw. "Be as sensitive as you can, please. He's my friend."

He gave an irritable growl, but nodded his compliance. That earned him another kiss on the cheek and an sassily innocent grin that he answered with a roll of his eyes. She really loved this man.

"Oh! Don't forget to feed Wes and Crooks for me!"

* * *

 **Hello! Two updates within a week, aren't you feeling loved? Love me back with reviews! I want to know how you felt about this chapter.**

 **Question: should Targnak show up in the Wizengamot, or should the Minister approach him at Gringotts? I have written the scene for both scenarios and simply can't decide.**

 **P.S. Thank you to the commenters who pointed out that BILL is the oldest, not Charlie. I don't know how that slipped my mind ( I probably just liked the thought that Charlie, our resident rebel, would become responsible in this scenario), but I fixed it and now we're all good!**


	37. Chapter 37

**Most people requested Targnak go to the Ministry. Here we are, second day of the session, and it's time for the budget changes. A goblin waits in the wings. . .**

 **Thank you to the few people who gave their opinions in reviews. I expected more people to want a say, and it was surprisingly less than ten. Do all my followers hate me?**

Chapter 37

* * *

Hermione arrived at the Wizengamot chambers within the hour, using the plum robes to cover her transfigured dress and wearing the same jewels as the day before. The stray wisps of hair that had freed themselves during the night were pinned in place or hidden beneath the plum headpiece. It was quiet in the room, and she realized she'd been so anxious to do as Severus asked that she was a little early.

For the first time, she looked around the room to do more than look for allies and enemies. The three sided council seating was actually four-sided. Any seats that did not have a claimant had been moved, and put off to the side so the Wizengamot never appeared empty. It was an extremely vain move, and the number of seats told a large amount about the society they belonged to.

She wandered around that fourth section with a wide curiousity. It wasn't as though every member was there, and she wanted to see the names. She saw the _Black_ chair and grimaced at its emptiness. The chair would have disappeared if the last of its house was gone, but the fact that it sat empty while the claimant was on the run from the authourities did not sit well with her.

Hermione read the names as she went: _Cresswell, Fletcher, Moody, Ollivander, Potter_ _… WEASLEY._

The chair was unassuming and had no idea of the offense it wrought, but Hermione's breath staggered and her heart felt painful. No one had told her she was not responsible for what happened to Mr. Weasley. No one had tried to absolve her of blame, and they were not wrong. Her magic had protected her at the end, but if she had thought … she could have been protecting them both. It was luck and Severus that saved his life, that she didn't need to live with killing the kindest of the Weasleys.

He should be here, defending Muggles with her like a team, the pureblood patriarch and the muggleborn.

Her eyes on the seat and widened. _They should. They should have their seat._

The reason the Weasleys couldn't claim their seat was obviously their poverty – with no House Jewels and not a single house elf that could verify the House's magic, they couldn't. They'd probably sold them off generations ago. Their Aunt Muriel had a seat for the Prewetts in the Wizengamot, but she clearly never sat in it because the Parkinsons used the seat to hold quills, ink, and what-have-you. But if it was so easy for Hermione to get four sets of jewels for herself, and bond with a house-elf …. Hermione would need her books, but she was sure House Jewels could be gifted. She could, maybe, restore the Weasleys' status and gain another seat for muggle-sympathizers within the Wizegamot.

With that excited thought, she hurried back to her seat before anyone else figured out what she did. Had anyone really thought of it? Her books practically jumped from her satchel to her lap with her excited wandless _accio_ , and she hunted for information on the Weasley family. If Arthur didn't want to, Molly could always sit in his place. Bill certainly could take the seat, as the oldest son. He wouldn't even need some fancy necklace to proclaim his status like her, just a ring or something that had the right metal, and right primary and secondary stones. She'd check to see if they had Wizengamot robes, but if they didn't it would be worth it to buy it for them. She would do a signet ring, she decided, with a jeweled band with alternating stones. It could be a smithing project to do at night in the castle, and she could negotiate the tiny gems from her _tilgnar_. She even had a month before the next legislative session in which to make it for them.

The problem would be getting them to accept it. The Weasleys were proud of their ability to make ends meet without assistance; their Prewett relatives were well-enough off to have a house-elf, but they had never asked Aunt Muriel for help. No, they wouldn't truly accept her help.

However, if she phrased it as a favour for the Order, and a way to prevent a Ministerial takeover by the other purebloods …

She studied their house colours more avidly. The Weasleys really had a strange set of house colours, comprising of bronze, amber, and peridot. Burnt orange and green? She looked and couldn't find any pictures of their House Jewels, so they probably had either never had them, or not had them for a long time.

Obviously their ancestors weren't particularly wealthy either, as the material and gems were not particularly expensive. The peridot would be the most costly, but for the few small gems needed to inlay the ring band she wouldn't even be paying twenty, at most fifty, galleons. A single bar of the gold she crafted could go for 200 galleons if she'd done a perfect job. The goblins would happily trade her, and a ring would be a cinch to craft.

Maybe she could convince Bill to get an ear-piercing like Charlie, and then she could make an earring with the colours too. It would be good practice. Or maybe that could be everyone's Christmas gifts.

 _Christmas presents!_ This year she hadn't even given any thought about Christmas presents for her friends.

Hermione was now even more determined to make these things for the Weasleys. A set of earrings for Ginny, a couple of rings with one being the signet for the House (depending on who decided to take up the seat, Bill or Arthur would either get the signet ring of a house ring), and then she still had a few cool crafting things she made in her goblin house. She could grab the letter opener she'd made on her first day for Percy, and then the extra wand holsters she had in her bag could be for the twins and Charlie. Charlie'd love a useful present, and he could use it to hold his wand while he dealt with his dragons.

She'd been planning to invest in the twins' business for Christmas; they had been friends of hers all of the previous year, and she'd enjoyed their products. She knew their shop would do well, and it'd be a great way to build her own vault in the future. That would need to be done in private, though, outside of Mrs. Weasley's sharp eye.

Mrs. Weasley … she needed something more.

Her brain kicked in and her heart leapt. _Of course! Oh, Mrs. Weasley would love that!_

She scribbled down all her ideas with her self-inking glass pen. _Now I just need something for Harry and Ron, and then maybe Remus and Sirius. Definitely Severus. My par-_ Her hand stilled and she struggled against her tears. It wasn't all from the sadness of the memory, but from the guilt she had for not even thinking of them in so long. The Wizarding world had swallowed her up, an she hadn't even really thought about the muggle world in so long… this would be her first Christmas without her parents. Their first without her since she was born.

The loud pounding of Fudge's gavel grabbed her from her melancholy. "Order! The second sitting of this Wizengamot session will not begin!"

The sitting discussion turned to the debt ceiling, drawing her attention from her books. Although she hadn't had time to research it before the session, she still pulled out her law books and tried to ascertain why the Ministry had debt in the first place. It was very in depth and confusing, and undoubtedly something she'd need to research in depth at another time. It'd probably take her weeks to go over the basics of something this abstract and counterintuitive. The fascinating part was the treaty that dictated the changes economically was made with the goblins at the end of the final Goblin Rebellion. It stated that no debt changes could be made without the region's economic leader, the head goblin, approving them.

Targnak ran Wizarding Britain's economy. Targnak needed to come to the Wizengamot. Targnak, _grishkna_.

As if her thoughts were out loud, the session summoned the _grishkna._ Her large goblin boss came in in full goblin warrior regalia, obviously symbolic of the war that had brought on the treaty he was honouring. There was a large ledger under his arm.

It suddenly made sense, why he understood the timeline of needing her House Jewels, why he heard the gossip of a new house, why all of that night two days ago he'd been giving her knowing smiles. The goblin king immediately caught her eye from the floor and gave her a toothy grin.

"Targnak," Fudge addressed the goblin with no respect, making Hermione wince, "we've come to an agreement on the new debt for the Ministry. You are here to approve it. If I could just have your signature …"

Targnak lifted his hand. "It is not that simple, Mister Fudge. I granted the last increase because it had been nearly fifteen years since the last. The galleon's inflation could be handled. This is the second time within the last year and I wish to know what reason is important enough to significantly lower our currency's value."

Hermione took in this new information with barely concealed interest, as well as the reactions from the room. Apparently the goblin did not normally ask for clarification on the spending, if the indignant look he received form the purebloods was any indication.

"That is not your concern," Fudge growled. "We need to increase our spending, that is all."

"By refusing to tell me, Minister, you make me unable to evaluate the investment and will be forced to deny your request," Targnak's grin gleamed. "Be warned: if you refuse, your request will be denied; if you concede we will be drawing up a contract for allocation of funds. It'd be best to disclose everything."

Fudge looked part ashamed and part lethally angry that a goblin had called him out. It was like sitting next to a tea kettle that was boiling, the sputtering and hissing. His face even looked as if he was filled with boiling liquid the way it pooled a deep red.

"Or, perhaps, I can look at the Ministry account for those answers," Targnak said, flipping open the ledger that was under his arm. "For example, maybe the dozens of paychecks being made to a new department, one only labeled as THE REGISTRY? Or is it the new monthly payments to the Daily Prophet's vault? Or, perhaps, its to keep up the fifty new auror hires, and the extra trips abroad. Maybe its for the increase of supplies, like wands, potions, etc that I see you've been purchasing in large quantities. You know, Minister, from this ledger, it seems you are preparing for war."

The tension in the room increased. Fudge looked aghast, while Hermione was simply … considering. Targnak knew what side of this she came up on, and yet … did he? They'd never really spoken about it. Was he giving the lowly Apprentice such valuable information? Or was he airing all of Fudge's dirty laundry out of some sense of spite.

"You don't get to accuse us, goblin! Vault records are private!" Fudge pointed an accusing finger at her _grishkna_. "I could have you arrested."

"The records are private for private businesses and people," Targnak told him firmly. "You law clearly states that public organizations can have their records made public to the Wizengamot when a need presents itself. I am within your laws, you pompous inbred. You would be wise not to threaten me."

Lord Malfoy stood them. "Minister, perhaps it would be best to remove the ladies from the room?"

"What?" Hermione hissed to Dayna. The woman nodded. "They're allowed to do that?"

"If there is a chance of it escalating to a fight or duel, any man in the room can move to have us removed until the threat is passed," Lady Abbott informed her. "The Chief Warlock, or, in his absence, the Minister needs to approve the motion."

All eyes were on Fudge, who nodded. "Yes, I believe that might be wise. I hereby dism-"

"You will NOT!" Targnak thundered, his voice loud even without magic. The room stilled, obviously having never seen the powerful goblin so enraged. "I am only tolerating your arrogant request because of one o your human females. Remove her, and you'll have no approval for your Ministry's debt."

His gaze slid to hear significantly and briefly. Her breath caught in her throat. Targnak was doing this because of _her_? Why would he? He had to know she was not a fan of Fudge, that they were on opposing sides of the conflict. Why would he approve such a budget in _her_ name? Why did he even afford her that respect?

"Who is it, goblin?" Fudge asked, his face hard. "Whomever you've been speaking with should not have been able to discuss any Wizengamot business with you. They are in violation!"

"I did not say she had," the goblin growled. "This human has my respect, and that respect is why I have not responded to your arrogance and disrespect."

Fudge's eyes bulged. "We have a right to know who has influenced you, goblin! Tell us who your ally is!"

Hermione couldn't bear to see her _grishkna_ disrespected and yelled at anymore. Looking to Targnak, she tried to convey her acceptance. That he could tell Fudge. Her _grishkna_ did not see it, and her breath went ragged as the goblin's hand moved to his weapon sheath.

"I do not condone disrespect, Fudge!" Targnak roared. "Were you one of my people, I would take my axe to you."

" _Grishkna_ , no!" Hermione stood, trying to avert the damage before the guards tried to kill the goblin. The room stilled at her words, and with pink cheeks she turned to Fudge. "Minister, I am the one he's talking about, and I'm sorry I didn't intervene sooner. I wasn't sure if it was my place."

"You?!" Fudge barked. The room murmured around her, much of it with confusion but some with outrage. "What is your dealing with the Gringotts manager?"

"He is not the manager, Minister, he is _grishkna_ of his entire clan and deserves your respect," Hermione's chin raised defensively. "I didn't even know that the Gringotts clan was required to approve the Ministry budget until today, and _grishkna_ did not tell me in advance. Whatever he does in this meeting is done without any of my influence, unless you count our rather unusual friendship."

Targnak decided to speak up. "Apprentice Granger is an ally of the Gringotts clan. My people respect her, and work with her as she needs."

"This _girl-?!_ " Fudge said incredulously. "She cannot be. Obviously, you've allied your clan with Dumbledore or Potter. They've convinced you to lie to the Ministry, to go to war against an unconfirmed and falsified threat. This _girl_ is clearly covering for a manipulation put in place to undermine the Ministry!"

"That _girl_ is owed your respect, Fudge!" Targnak roared. "Are your ears plugged, you fool? I said _she_ has full rights within the goblins of Gringotts, not these wizards you speak of. Know, Minister, that If you harm or make an enemy of Apprentice Granger, you will incite war between us. I would cleave you in two for her if she asked it of me!"

" _Grishkna_ , stop!" Hermione pleaded. She turned to Fudge. "Minister, you clearly have no idea how to speak respectfully to goblins, and you're only making things worse. They are an honourable people, and take insults very seriously. Let me deescalate this situation with _grishkna_ , preferably somewhere private."

"Absolutely not," Fudge denied, his face a horrible purple. "You will not leave this room, or you will be barred from the rest of this session!"

"Well you can't do this yourself! It's clear no one here knows a _thing_ about goblin culture!" Hermione insisted. "Which, by the way, is entirely shameful. This entire government relies on them! I would _think_ after _years_ of cooperation, you might _once_ have learned _something_ about their customs."

"Excuse me, Minister, Lady Aethon," Lord Greengrass said, standing. She could feel the intensity of his gaze and averted her eyes. "There _is_ a compromise to be made here. There _is_ a privacy ward towards the east corner of the floor. Usually it is only used so a presenter can discuss matters with their legal aide, however, we can surely allow the Lady Aethon to de-escalate this matter there and yet within full view of the room. We wouldn't want to further insult _Grishkna_ Targnak."

At least Lord Greengrass had picked up on Targnak's title, even if he used it incorrectly. He was trying, unlike the current Minister.

Since Fudge had been dealt with by a respected member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he allowed her to speak with Targnak on her own. Hermione unwillingly felt a tingle of gratitude for the shady Death Eater that was immediately replaced by wariness at him motives. Unwilling to think on it, she led her _grishkna_ to the privacy wards for a chat.

Within full view of everyone, she knelt on the ground before the goblin leader, bowing and exposing her neck. It was polite to present yourself to his axe as a sign of your own innocence and lack of ill-intent. It was, literally, putting your life in his hands.

Only when Targnak made no move to draw his axe did Hermione lift her head.

" _Grishkna,_ I thank you for the honour you've bestowed on me and for the defence of my character, but you can't threaten violence in here. Not against the Minister. The guards will have no problem attacking you for the offense, and it would not be wise to get yourself killed on my behalf."

"Apprentice, I will not bargain with a Minister who disrespects you and devalues my entire race," he rumbled low in his chest, a clear sign of his waning patience. "I am only here to approve the increase if you deem it wise."

"Why?" Hermione asked. "Why is my opinion important?"

"You are _grishkna_ , Apprentice," Targnak admitted, and cast an ugly glare at the still red-faced Fudge. "Your opinion on your people is the only one that matters to the goblins."

"I am … but you are … _me_?"

Her powers. That's how Targnak knew her, because he was similar. The goblin viewed her as a fellow leader, as opposed to a lowly Apprentice. So much about their interactions now made sense, from the respect he paid her to the amount of times he'd personally escorted her. He thought she was the natural leader of the wizarding population.

"They don't acknowledge me, _grishkna_ ," Hermione told him. "I am no more their leader here than that chandelier."

"Do you wish your Ministry to receive this increase from Gringotts?" Targnak asked firmly, his voice low. "Do you think it wise?"

Targnak was clearly determined to give her her magic-given rights in this affair, so she resigned herself to the post and thought about what she wanted. "They won't use it well, I'm sure. Especially if the ledgers are saying so. Unfortunately, it doesn't even matter; they may just cut funding from more important work to get what they want if you refuse."

"So I make a contract," Targnak said firmly, his eyes glowing in vengeance. "Your Minister will not receive the funds unless he agrees to my terms."

Hermione relented. Targnak seemed intent on doing this, and she would not stop him from making things better within the Ministry. "Alright. But keep polite, please. I do not want you harmed."

"I cannot keep cordial words with one who will not with me," he refused. "If you wish to have my words not offend the Minister, you will speak for me."

"Our arrangement was supposed to be private, _grishkna_ ," Hermione said with a small glare at the goblin. "Do you realize how many questions I'm going to be asked because of what I've done? There are reporters in here, and I'm certain they'll be writing a huge story on this in tomorrow's paper. And you want me MORE involved? You're really pushing me, Targnak."

The goblin gave her his version of a friendly grin at her use of his name, like she'd amused him with it. "But is this meeting not so much more interesting now?"

They came to an agreement. Walking out of the protected area together, the Wizengamot was called back to order and Hermione stood with Targnak, _grishkna_ with _grishkna_ , .

"As _grishkna_ of the Gringotts clan, I have agreed to continue discussing terms for the debt increase," Targnak said, clearly trying to be polite but still fixed with a goblin-like menace in his sneer. "However, I request that Apprentice Granger remains on the floor to speak to the Minister on my behalf, and ensure her desire for civility is maintained. Is that acceptable?"

She could feel herself blush, but said nothing as Fudge's face turned red once again.

"Now, see here, there is no need for a girl to be put in the middle of this," Fudge argued. "She is not qualified."

"Minister," Hermione interjected, " _Grishkna_ will speak for himself on most things, but he wants me here to interject when he becomes too offended to speak with you. Prior to now, you have insulted his title, his people, and his allies. In this moment, you've offended him by questioning his judgement. In order to continue negotiations, you will need to acknowledge his right to have an ally here, and his magical right to lead his people."

Fudge grew red. "Fine. Apprentice Granger may remain on the floor, but it means she will not be voting on your proposed negotiations, Goblin."

She could practically feel Targnak losing his patience at the man.

"His title is _grishkna_ ," Hermione pointed out firmly. "Please use it when addressing him. To address a goblin by less than his title is to insult his accomplishments and station within his clan. You are, essentially, calling him useless."

Fudge was silent, not willing to apologize but also not willing to further exasperate the situation while Targnak held the incriminating ledger in his hands. It was Targnak who broke the silence.

"What increase would the Ministry like me to approve?"

Targak listened to the numbers and their proposed allocations with more patience than Hermione had, nodding along to the Minister and looking at some loose-leaf pages he had in his ledger.

"I would refuse your request for additional credit under normal circumstances," Targnak interjected firmly. The wizards in the room looked angry at his proclamation. "If my bank were performing how they were even a month prior, your Ministry and my clan would be unable to face the cost of the increase. However, in the past little while our precious metal stores have been replenished by an unmentionable benefactor. It has provided the necessary funds to the Gringotts clan to compensate us for any loss the falling exchange rate will bring, and add additional credit for businesses under our control to stimulate further growth and investment opportunities. Of course, per my contract with this benefactor, I couldn't share the name of this exceptional witch."

Targnak's gaze slid to her with the rest of the room, and she glared at the tiny goblin. To anyone else, her glare would have meant promised vengeance. With Targnak, he'd earned the status of proto-father and her anger would be less lethal to her _grishkna_. He should still have been repentant, at least, instead of looking smug. He wasn't allowed to tell anyone about her presence in Gringotts, but his not telling while she was next to him was obvious enough. She wanted to punch him and go check on Severus.

He waved away her concern by motioning her to face the Minister. Fudge was a moron, but Hermione knew he was smart enough to know what was going on. Surprisingly, he had stopped being indignant at Targnak's words and instead looked at her with a calculated look.

In between the negotiations, for the rest of the meeting, Cornelius did what he could to make up for his poor behaviour towards her at the beginning of the meeting. She wanted to facepalm herself. Of course. Moody had spoken to her a little bit about the key players right now, Fudge being one of them, and she should have known Targnak would be even more familiar with the man.

Apparently, Fudge's Ministry had a higher spending average than any previously but could maintain it through wealthy donors seeking favours. Hence, the Malfoys. He'd clearly assumed from what Targnak said that she was independently wealthy, and would seek her out to fund his campaign sometime soon.

Regardless of Fudge's behaviour, she enjoyed the negotiations. Hermione wished she understood international economics and trade, because most of the interesting debate was lost on her. Deficits, loans, country spending vs international economy, everything seemed lost on her. The muggle part she understood, because it was obvious the Wizarding World had been benefiting financially from the muggle world more than she knew. Without the service-based professions that had been replaced by either spells or house-elves, the wizarding world ran on a wealthier spectrum by eliminating waste. But, according to Targnak and her own reading during the budget proposal, their growth was exceptionally slow. That part was fascinating.

Fudge knew exactly what he needed from the goblin and what stipulations he would agree to. Hermione _did_ understand was that the goblin was requiring Fudge to stop payments to the Daily Prophet and various other places if he wanted the loan, and that Fudge had reluctantly agreed. Apparently, in this instance, the goblins controlled the Minister. The actual economics behind the trade were complicated, but the political ramifications had her head spinning.

Why didn't Binns ever teach about the treaties formed after the Goblin Rebellions that gave them government co-ownership in this way? He seemed to only care about the battles and end dates. Clearly, Hogwarts needed a more proficient teacher for the subject if she felt so lost.

She would never had stood up there knowing as little as she did without Targnak next to her. Despite his blatant disregard for her secrecy, it was only gratitude that she felt for the goblin. Perhaps the consequences would balance out. Perhaps she'd earn just a little more respect, a little more leeway, and, in turn, it would make her task a little bit easier.

SSHGSSHGSSSHG

"Thank you, Apprentice," Targnak clasped her arm in a show of acknowledging her as his equal. "I did not have the patience for that man."

"I'm glad you were able to get him to sign your contract," Hermione bowed her head deferentially. "You might not care, but the Wizarding World should thank you for what you did today."

"Am I forgiven for using the promise of your _wealth_ to get it?" the goblin leader asked, his face cheeky and unrepentant. "We'd hate to lose you, Apprentice."

She sighed. "I can't blame you, with the results. The wizarding world should be giving you their thanks."

They really should. Targnak had singlehandedly taken the Ministry to town on its spending, stance, and just about everything. He'd eliminated external payments from the Ministry to businesses (like the Daily Prophet), eliminated the new, ambiguous registry department, and had increased the funds given to many underfunded offices so that they were at least on the same level as offices like Wizarding Sports.

Departments like the Department of Muggle Management would be seeing an increase, which meant more employees and a higher chance of putting out regulations and legislation changes. It was also the Department which just so happens to run the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Ron's dad was about to get quite the raise.

She'd have to remember to get Targnak a Christmas present.

"But I will have two requests for you this weekend, and your answer had better be 'yes'," Hermione warned him. With how the meeting had gone, she'd need to take the dark object from Gringotts soon, before Voldemort removed it from her access.

"Understood," Targnak grinned. "Until next time, Apprentice. Don't let that inbred give you grief over this."

"I'll try."

Targnak nodded and walked off.

In truth, she was terrified. Her relationship with the goblins was complicated, but it was supposed to be secret. Tomorrow, the entire affair would reach the public and she had no idea what that would mean. Hermione took off her robes and folded them carefully into her satchel, not wanting to be plum-covered as she left for the day.

Would the secret object that was hidden in Gringotts still be kept there once Voldemort knew of her ties with the place? Would she be allowed to go back, or would Severus be forced to keep her from attending in the future because of this setback? She honestly couldn't believe Targnak had put her in this position. He hadn't said anything about their arrangement, so it wasn't against the contract, but he had made it clear he was on friendly terms with her and that she was held in high regard. Which was great, but not the point of her learning from them.

A chuckle floated from the corner, and a disillusioned figure suddenly became visible.

"Impressive, my Lady," Lord Greengrass emerged from the shadows, startling her. "You've surprised me. A hard feat, I assure you."

"Why are you still here?" Hermione demanded. The session had been out for nearly thirty minutes, and all the other members had left before she'd even considered ending her discussion with Targnak. This interrogation is exactly what she'd wanted to avoid with her delay. "I thought everyone was gone."

"Sometimes opportunity rests with those who wait," Lord Greengrass said with a smirk. "And see? I have gotten you alone. Waiting was clearly to my benefit."

She looked around, suddenly aware of how true his words were. She was completely alone. Her heart pounded. "Really? How could this benefit you?"

"Now, now, Hermione, you're much too intelligent for feigned ignorance," Greengrass tutted, moving forward. "You know fully well what you do to a man."

For the first time, she cursed the change she'd gone through. The initial stared from the boys at Hogwarts had been polite, to the point where she hadn't minded. Greengrass' look was heated and heavy. The change was not worth it if Lord Greengrass' eyes kept moving to her chest. At least she wasn't still in Daphne's dress, but that was the only positive here.

"I meant what I said," he continued, eyes intent. "If you doubt my sincerity, it would be my honour to seal my interest with a betrothal."

"I'm certain your Master would object," Hermione said with a jut of her chin. "Whatever his plan is with these presentations, it certainly won't end in marriage."

"Perhaps not with the boys," Greengrass remarked, a smirk unsettling her. "Too much lost potential, he would say, in keeping pure lines. I, however, have the confidence of our Lord. I could court you, contract you, and marry you. I could give you every finery of a wife of Greengrass, keep you from my brothers, and my Lord would allow it if only I ask. A few half-blood heirs to give you purpose. I have always wanted a son, myself."

He moved closer, his voice getting softer as he approached.

"Luxury, protection, family… My Lady, I offer it all to you."

"Protection?" Hermione found her voice. "Why would I need protection?"

His old, handsome face gave her a grin. "You are a young lady, my dear, and one of negligible birth. There are times ahead where that will mean your death. I could take you in, sweet girl, and keep you from harm." He leaned closer, his face close to hers. "Have dinner with me tonight. You will not regret it."

She tried to stay polite. "I am flattered, Lord Greengrass, but I need to head to St. Mungos. My friend's father had an accident-"

"Ah, yes, Arthur," Lord Greengrass looked extremely disapproving. "Well, then, I suppose tonight will not do. Later this week, perhaps. Friday?"

"I'm sorry, Lord Greengrass, but I'm simply not interested."

"After a dinner, you will be," he commented with a wink. "Join me on Friday."

She glared. "I have to refuse, _my Lord._ My apprenticeship-"

"Is no reason you should not take time to enjoy the finer things of life," he persisted. "You are not seeing anyone, correct?"

She wanted to say yes, but Severus was not something she could share. "No, I'm not."

"And you have nothing else to do on Friday?"

"My Master likes me to brew his orders then," she tried, but Lord Greengrass only grinned wider.

"Severus is an old friend, my Lady," he said. "He will make an exception for me."

Hermione tried to find a way to get out of it, but settled for blunt honesty. "I am still not interested."

"Then it will simply be a lavish meal, far better than you'd eat at Hogwarts," Greengrass countered with a smug grin. "Perhaps we could discuss politics, or the war. Whatever you must believe to come dine with me."

"What will happen if I refuse?" Hermione asked, suddenly aware that he would make sure she came, no matter what she said.

"Then the Prophet will print your curious behavior with the goblin all over the cover of tomorrow's paper," he had an ace in the hole, and he knew it. His eyes lit up in smug satisfaction at her disbelieving expression. "I could see how uncomfortable you were with the goblin's declarations, my dear, and took the initiative to speak with the reporters. The only people who will hear of your unprecedented relationship with the goblins are those who are told by the attendants. Mere rumours, easily ignored and even more easily forgotten. If, however, I was mistaken about your discomfort…"

His threat hung in the air, and Hermione finally relented.

"Where do I meet you?"


	38. Chapter 38

**AN: Okay, so this chapter does have some important moments plot-wise, but it's also just an exceptionally long information dump for the next series of happenings. I divided it up, but I didn't feel right separating parts of this into separate chapters, so yes! Very long! I think it's fun to read, but I also like thinking about how their world works. Oh, and the idea for the anchor stone and ley lines bit is something I accepted into my own cannon and added to from _THE ARITHMANCER_ and _LADY ARCHIMEDES._**

 **On to the chapter!**

* * *

Chapter 38

* * *

It was never good when someone downright _strutted_ into a meeting with the Dark Lord. Never, never good. Lord Greengrass was practically smiling, that's how pleased he was with himself. To Severus, he looked absolutely the pinnacle of pureblood success.

"So, the final sitting is over for the month. How did this Wizengamot session go, my friends?" Voldemort asked the room. "Successful?"

Malfoy leaned back, clearly not willing to answer. That was also a bad sign. Whatever had happened, someone was going to be punished and Lucius did not want to be in the line of fire.

Goyle spoke first. "Well, the first and last sitting went according to plan."

Voldemort glared at Goyle. "And the second sitting? That was about funding, was it not? I find that essential."

Avery leaned forward then. "The Gringotts goblin interfered with our plans. The Ministry isn't funding the Registry anymore, and payments to any business outside of the Ministry have stopped."

"How?" Voldemort drawled, his voice low and deadly.

"Ask Snape," Goyle glared at him. "It was _his_ precious apprentice."

Eyes shifted to him, and he held his posture rigid. Severus glared down Goyle, earning a slightly apprehensive look from the Death Eater. "What. Did. She. Do?"

Lord Greengrass took up the silence. "You really do have a brilliant little witch in your hands, Severus. She's been befriending the goblins! I had no idea such a thing was possible, especially for such a pretty little girl. Their _grishkna_ came into the sitting-"

" _Grishkna?_ " Rudolphus interjected. "What is that?"

"The girl made a fuss that _grishkna_ was the goblin's proper title," Greengrass explained, his eyes sparkling in mirth. "Apparently, that is what the goblin leader is called. Anyway, the goblin came in, read out every shameful Ministry expenditure, and refused to approve the budget unless the esteemed Lady Aethon agreed with it. When the Minister tried to put a stop to it, the little goblin declared Apprentice Granger as an ally of the Gringotts clan, with all the protections that come with it. It was … a very alluring display."

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Hermione would befriend the angry creatures. First werewolves and house-elves, then goblins. Next she'd be approached by the centaurs and given rein over their herd. She had a habit of collecting abused creatures, himself included.

"Here's a copy of the contract the Minister signed to increase their funding," Greegrass slipped the parchment over to the Dark Lord.

Severus forced a frown and got to work restoring his Lord's confidence. "Miss Granger has been used by Albus for Order missions, of late. He refuses to share with me in case I am instructed to stop her, but it would explain how she got close to the little greedy creatures."

There, a possible explanation. Voldemort raised his hand to silence the room as he read. They all sat in silence, until Bellatrix' insanity refused to be silenced.

"You don't believe him," Bella whined from the side of the table. "He must know what the mudblood is doing. He let her sit with the purebloods and affect our laws, just as he allowed the mudblood to interfere with our acquisition of the prophecy! Punish him!"

Red eyes slid to Bellatrix. "My dear Bellatrix, it was _I_ who permitted the mudblood to attend. Severus offered to keep her away, but I underestimated his apprentice once again. I _assumed_ she'd be barred from the session. Thurston, why was she not removed the first day?"

Thurston Nott glared at his hands. "The girl was prepared, somehow. She had the House Jewels, the crest, the robes … she didn't slip once, or if she did it was not severe enough to have her removed. Had she been anything less than the Lady of her house, she would have been tossed out for insulting me during my presentation."

Greengrass laughed then, his mood clearly still light. "Really, brother? You must not have the charming tongue you once did. I myself am having dinner with her on Friday."

Severus turned to glare at Greengrass. "Repeat yourself."

Duncan gave him a smile. "I told the girl I'd speak with you, Severus, and get her Friday night off of her potion duties. You will oblige me, won't you? I'm so looking forward to bringing her to the Greegrass estate. I think the little bookworm would like to get a _feel_ for my library, don't you?"

It took everything he had not to reach out a hand and punch the man, right in his straight, aquiline nose and perfect teeth. He hadn't felt such rage in years. He had been prepared for insults and remarks on Hermione's beauty; even for the talk of an imminent betrothal or ways to trick her into the Dark Lord's presence. This … had his witch really agreed to dinner with the handsome Greengrass widower?

"If our Lord wishes it," Severus replied stiffly, "and if she is returned to me. Unharmed."

"Of course. An excellent result, Greengrass," the Dark Lord praised. "Would it ruin your evening if I came myself to meet this girl?"

While the room blinking owlishly at their Lord, wondering at his interest in Hermione Granger, Severus dug his fingers into his leg to keep himself from showing his fear on his face. Hermione alone, with a Death Eater and the Dark Lord, for any amount of time was a terrifying prospect.

"You would be welcome to dine in my home anytime, my Lord," Lord Greengrass preened under the attention. "I am escorting her to the estate personally. If you happened to be there waiting …"

Severus could not bite his tongue. "Should I prepare for her death?"

The room turned to him, and the snake-like face of the Dark Lord looked affronted.

"Why waste such potential?" Voldemort dismissed his probe readily. "It is, as of yet, unclear what part she is to play, but she is clearly a powerful piece on the board. Moreso than we were aware of. So I must learn more about the girl, and change the side of the board on which she plays. Severus, you will bring her to Duncan on Friday night.

"Ensure that she does not lose her way."

* * *

With a few turns of the time-turner she took the next day preparing her gifts for the Weasley household. She used Ron as a sleeper agent, making sure that Mrs. Weasley was far away from Grimmauld Place and that the Weasleys would indeed be arriving at the pureblood home that evening.

When she arrived and opened the door, she realized how fantastic it was that Csara was at Grimmauld Place, and even better that Kreacher was well, because the place was spotless. She had visited just the other day, but she hadn't put it in context of her Christmas gift to Molly.

"Sirius!" Hermione called, hanging her scarf just by the door. "Where are you, you dog?"

Up in his room, Sirius heard the call of his packmate and transformed. Landing after landing was jumped until he bounded up towards Hermione and tackled her, licking her face in doggish enthusiasm.

"Ew, Sirius, geroff!" Hermione griped with a chuckle.

Sirius transformed back a smiled at her with his youthful features and debonair smile. "Morning, kitten!"

"Ugh, you slobbered on me," Hermione wiped the dog spit from her face with a grimace. "It's terribly unhygienic."

He laughed with her and brought her into the sitting room with a grand gesture.

"So, kitten, what're you doing here? Is this about Csara?" he asked.

That was a bizarre question for Hermione, who hadn't even heard from Csara since she'd loaned her to the Black house a last month.

"Is she alright?"

Sirius saw an opportunity for a prank. "Hermione … I'm … I'm sorry. There was an accident. Don't blame Kreacher, he's so upset he let it happen."

When he had her eyes glistening with tears, he called out, "Csara! Kreacher!"

The little she-elf from America appeared with a loud pop, and both of her giant hands cradling her back. Kreacher followed with a pop and, being more able to, bowed to the couple. Hermione gaped, looking at large bump on Csara's front. Then she turned around and promptly punched Sirius in the arm.

"You arse!" Hermione shrieked. "I thought you'd killed her!"

"Well, Kreacher did feel badly!" Sirius laughed, trying to catch her fists. "Merlin, woman, you're worse than Moody!"

Unfortunately, Csara took her their teasing to mean Hermione was upset at the development. Their fighting was stopped by the sound of small sniffles. Never was a woman more stricken of her behaviour than Hermione Granger for causing an elf to cry. She instantly fell to her knees in front of the pregnant elf.

"Oh, Csara, I'm so happy for you!" Hermione congratulated, taking the elf's hands in her own. "And Kreacher, you're the father? You're clearly feeling like your old self."

Kreacher's ears bent in half, displaying his embarrassment, as Csara patted his shoulder.

"He is good to Csara, Mistress," the elf sniffled, a smile on her face and her ears wobbling but erect. "He is trying to stop Csara from doing the cookings for Mister Sirius. He is doing more work."

"Well, I have to agree with him," Hermione said with a grin. "You look ready to pop. How long do elf pregnancies last?"

Kreacher patted Csara's belly. "Is different. Magic of house be deciding. Strong magic is small belly-life. Strong little elves."

"Oh," that was news. So, every elf pregnancy in her house depended on her? "So, is this very quick or very slow for a, er, for belly-life?"

It was a strange word for pregnancy, but it kind of fit.

Csara smiled at Hermione. "Is very small belly-life. Very strong magics. Mistress is very good for little elves, and Black House helps some. We is thinking in next week he be born."

"He?" Hermione grinned. "A little boy elf?"

Both elf parents smiled and raised their ears, the sign of very happy elves. Hermione beamed back.

"I need to know how to help," Hermione exclaimed. "Do you need a crib? Milk bottles? Potions? Do you need help with the delivery?"

Csara shook her head. "Black House be having nursery for elves, Mistress. When little elf wants to leaves belly-life, I be calling Helgy and Gem. The she-elves be helping little elf come out." Her ears wobbled. "Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"Cans Csara's little elf serve Mistress when all grows up?" Csara looked up with wide eyes. "Csara wants little elf to stay with Csara."

Hermione folded Csara in a hug. "Of course he can, of course! I'd never dream of splitting up a family. And you can stay with Kreacher, at the very least until I get a home. You have a couple of years until that happens. Maybe you both could become Black house elves with Kreacher, when that happens."

Csara's ears wiggled and she returned Hermione's hug. "Mistress is very good to elves. Csara has best Mistress. Mistress not be selling Csara's little elf."

Hermione's heart broke. It must have been common practise for purebloods to sell elves between houses, but to take a child from his mother … once again, the Wizarding World proved they never thought of the little guys. They couldn't have thought about it, because if they did they wouldn't so much as lift a finger to these wonderful little beings.

"Hey, I'm pretty fantastic too!" Sirius protested from the couch.

Csara shook her head, as if it were obvious. "You is not knowing Kreacher sick. Mistress is knowing."

Sirius clapped his hands on his legs. "Well, can't argue with that. So, kitten, what were you here for?"

Hermione shook her head. "I wanted to see if we could throw a little party, since Mr. Weasley's coming back today, but maybe it shouldn't be that much of a fuss-"

The elf-couple squealed. "A party? We is having a party! Like old Black family!" "Csara be cooking for many people! Many treats!"

The elves popped out of the room instantly, leaving Hermione dumbfounded in their wake. Sirius laughed.

"Yeah, those two are impossible to contain," Sirius barked his chuckle. "I swear, I'm almost jealous of Kreacher. That little bastard's getting more action than I am! Worse, they baby me. Me! Molly will be devastated at not being able to coddle my bachelor self anymore."

"She's coddling Arthur now," Hermione said with a smile. Then a grimace. "That sounded way dirtier out loud."

Synchronized shudders. No one wanted that image in their brains.

"I also wanted to know if you needed help with Christmas presents," Hermione said, returning to the sofa. "I know you hate not being able to spoil Harry."

Sirius waved his hand. "No worries kitten. I dug out one of James' old things to give to him. He'll appreciate it."

He would.

With the decorations and fancy meal underway, Hermione went back to the castle. This was the worst part of her day, she realized. Taking Harry back to Grimmauld Place. She just couldn't bear for him to take the train and end up in London still angry at her. So she'd volunteered to go get him after his last class of the day.

Until then, she went to the crafting room to finish her gifts for the boys. She'd spent a time-turner allotment yesterday while her 12-hours-younger her was still in Wizengamot crafting the gifts for the remaining Weasleys. Tonight, after bringing Harry to Grimmauld, she'd go to the Quidditch shop for Ron and Harry.

She loved this little time, bending metals and forging them the way of the goblins. It actual took very little fire, but plenty of earth-based energy. It had taken training, but she was now able to bend the metals with her magic and purify them the same way. It had taken hours off her crafting time for the gifts. All she needed now was _grishkna_ to trade her for the amber and peridot, and she'd be done. Hermione beamed with pride and then looked at her watch.

She still had an hour before Harry finished classes.

"Helgy!" Hermione called. The female elf popped up to her room. "Hi."

"Hello, Mistress Hermione," Helgy grinned, ears erect and wobbling with excitement. "How is Helgy helping?"

"I was hoping you could take me to the nest-mother," Hermione said politely. Helgy's ears stilled. "Would she be alright with meeting me?"

Helgy's eyes were wide. "Nest mother of Hogwarts be important elf, Mistress Hermione. Only owner of nest mother be allowed."

"Oh, I guess that's fair." She thought for a moment. "Helgy, can you give her a message for me?"

"Yes, Mistress Hermione!" Helgy's ears started quivering again.

Hermione knelt by the elf. "I'm actually looking for a free elf who wants to bond to a pureblood house. They don't have any elves now, so they might get lonely, but I think this house has very strong magic for elves. They at least have enough people in it to create a strong magic, and the people in the house are some of the kindest I know. They won't mistreat any elf that bonds with them. And they won't sell them, I promise. Just one elf, at most two if there's an elf-partner that wants to come. If there's no one, that's fine, but-"

Helgy silenced Hermione with a finger held up. Her eyes were wide in awe. "Mistress Hermione be helping free elves find good house?"

"Erm, yes," Hermione tilted her head in thought. "It's not for that reason, but I suppose I am."

Helgy squealed and jumped up and down. "Helgy be telling nest mother! Helgy finds you elf for Missy-friends!"

And with a pop, Helgy was gone. Another thing done.

With a sigh, and knowing she had no more distractions or tasks, she started to head towards the Gryffindor common room. It was better if she was there, waiting for Harry, than if she just hunted him down. Her heart ached with the knowledge that she'd hurt him, that he was angry with her. It was only hope that made her believe Harry would forgive her.

She waited in the Gryffindor dorms until their classes ended for the day. There were a few seventh years in there, doing homework or wrapping presents, but it was the fifth years she wanted. When the time came, the entire fifth-year Gryffindor class came through the portrait hole at once, Harry's magic volatile and painfully dark. The very observation hurt more than his magic.

"Harry."

Her voice made Harry stiffen in the entryway, his face black and grim. Everyone else stopped behind him, watching the scene unfold. Harry folded his arms across his chest, and Hermione bowed her head. Everyone held their breath.

"You hid it from me." It wasn't a question. It wasn't a yell. It was passionless and dark.

"Yes."

His jaw set. "I trusted you."

"I know."

Her soft answers must have broken through his passionless mask, because Harry was done.

"Then WHY?!" he yelled, his fists shaking in fury. "I'm your FRIEND! Is it because of Snape, is that why?! Has he turned you against me?! Has everyone just been lying to me?!"

"Harry, please," Hermione begged, "you're my best friend. You have to believe I hid it because I had to. I couldn't tell you, Harry, I just couldn't!"

Shaking with fury, Harry went for the stairs to the boy's dormitories and away from Hermione. She followed, not willing to let him get away. Harry stomped ahead of her and started packing his last few things violently into his bag, his vehemence and anger killing whatever order there was.

Hermione cast the _muffliato_ and moved towards her friend.

"Harry," Hermione's voice wavered. "Harry, please. Ask anything you want, and I'll tell you truthfully."

When he didn't answer, Hermoine's eyes watered.

"I have too much magic," Hermione started, unprompted. "Dumbledore says I'm a link witch. I have so much magic I need to siphon it off to the people around me, and I even have a bond with someone to help me. I can't tell you who, but he's why I'm not around as often. My appearance changed so I could handle the magic; that's why I look different. I don't sleep, or eat nearly as much as I used to; it's a side-effect from being what I am."

"There's a he?" Harry looked at her now, betrayal still etched his face. "You had to hide a boyfriend from me?"

Hermione sat on Ron's bed, aware that sitting on Harry's would be too forward. "Harry … his identity is a secret. I love him more than anything, and with Voldemort now aware of my powers, he could be in real danger. If he were mortally injured, I would _have_ to go to him and heal him. I so want to share him with you, but I can't until the war is over. Can you understand that?"

Harry looked down, peeved. "How much else have you been hiding?"

"Have you been wearing the ring I gave you?" Hermione asked suddenly, not seeing it on his fingers. "Harry, it's supposed to help you!"

"You lied to me!" Harry accused. "Why would I wear something you made, when I can't even trust you anymore!" Tears started to stream down his eyes, lightly misting his glasses. He took them off angrily and tossed them on the bed. "You're just like Dumbledore!"

Hermione took the now sobbing Harry into her arms, and surrounded him with her magic. She tried not to make it overt, but it was strong enough to help Harry let out all of his feelings. He sobbed into her shoulder, like so many times before, and held her like a life-vest.

"Is this about Dumbledore avoiding you, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry screamed angrily into her shoulder, clearly unable to control his anger.

"He's not doing it because of you," she ran her hand up and down his back, comforting him. "I don't know why he hasn't told you this, Harry, but it's because of your connection to Voldemort."

"He won't look at me!" Harry cried. "I yelled at him, I couldn't take it anymore!"

Hermione's magic clutched him tight. "It's not to hurt you, Harry. He's worried for you, worried that if you're around him too much Voldemort might be tempted to spend more time in your head. It's not your fault."

"Really?" Harry whispered brokenly.

Hermione nodded, and stroked his hair. "He's Voldemort's greatest fear, Harry. If looking through you is the way to find Dumbledore's weakness, he will try to use it. You need to be careful, and stay calm as much as you can. That's what the ring's for."

"How?"

"The ring has been infused with quite a bit of Draught of Peace. I made it to help you avoid these darker moods. Whenever you get angry, you're welcoming in Voldemort. I wanted to help."

"He's in my head," Harry sobbed. "I want him out! I don't want this! Get him out!"

Harry pulled away sharply and began pulling at his face with his fingers and hands, a terrifying show of panic and frustration. Her magic couldn't contain the dark feelings Harry had, and she dived forward to wrench his hands away from his face. He started breathing heavily, and shaking.

 _Oh God, it's a panic attack._

Hermione had seen it a few times in her mum. As good of a woman as her mother was, her father needed to sometimes help her through difficult times. Remembering what he did, Hermione took his hands and pressed them between hers.

"Harry, stop. Hurting yourself isn't going to make your fear go away," she was clear, but with her voice soft and full of anxiety for him. "You feel this way because you're having a panic attack, alright? You're not sick, and you're not dying. But you need to breath, Harry, can you do that?"

Harry shook his head, panicking more. He tried to pull his hands from hers, but she didn't let go in fear that he'd hurt himself.

"It's alright if you can't, it's alright. Can you try something else for me? Can you count in your head? Just to ten, then count backwards to one. Can you do that for me?"

He nodded, his hands still shaking. She saw him mouthing the numbers. Once he reached ten and started to go back, she spoke.

"This is just because you're afraid, Harry, and that's alright," Hermione comforted. "You said your worst fear was being afraid, right? That's what Remus told you in third year?"

Harry nodded, his face panged.

"This fear is normal, Harry," she murmured. "Fear doesn't make you weak, it doesn't make you more like Voldemort. You are brave, and kind. You love the people around you selflessly. You are nothing like him, no matter how angry or afraid he makes you."

Harry's shaking was starting to slow, and his breath became more deliberate. "I will help you. Every step of the way, I will help you. I'm so sorry I hurt you."

Harry eventually let Hermione pull him into the bed so he could curl up around her. He needed someone to hold him and someone to hold on to, someone to ground him. They stayed that way well past when his shaking and sobbing stopped, but that didn't mean it was fine. The worry and fear in the air were palpable, and they stayed there for a long time, just holding each other.

"The ring does help," Harry whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry I took it off."

"It's all right."

"Hugging you … I feel something good …"

Hermione wrapped him tighter and more obviously in her magic. "That's part of my powers, Harry. I can send you magic to help you with what you're feeling. If you need it, I'll always help you."

Harry nodded earnestly. "It feels like sunshine."

She ran a hand through his hair. "You deserve every little bit of sunshine, Harry. Every tiniest bit. This is _not_ your fault. Your feelings are _not_ because its who you are. You're a good person, Harry. Its Voldemort who did this to you, and its _his_ emotions you're feeling. Can you see that now? Can you differentiate between what you really feel and what he feeds you?"

He curled up even further, but gave her a nod. "I think so. He's … he feels like the opposite of you. You surround me with sunshine. He surrounds me with dark."

"Remember that," Hermione murmured. "His is dark magic, Harry, and that's why you feel that way. It feeds off of emotions. Hatred, fear, resentment … He wants you to feel angry and alone, he wants to isolate you. But you have me, Sirius, Remus … you have the Weasleys … Ron … Do you think you can summon your patronus still?"

Harry nodded.

"I want you to think of whatever memory you use for your patronus, whenever you start feeling this way," she instructed softly. "Even conjure it, if you have to. You _can_ take control of your feelings Harry, even a little bit. Use happiness and love as a weapon in your head."

He clutched to her, just a little bit more.

"It's too much for me. I'm too weak."

"You are not!" Hermione emphasized, her voice just a little louder. "You're only fifteen, Harry. No one expects you to be able to deal with half the things you've gone through, but you _have_. No, you have. Is this the first time you've had a panic attack?"

He nodded into her shoulder.

"You've held it together for a long time, Harry," Hermione ran her fingers through is hair comfortingly, and placed a small kiss on his forehead. "You came back happy every year, no matter what life-threatening thing happened the year before. This year's just been harder. One panic attack doesn't mean you're not functioning. It just means that things got to be too much now that you know Voldemort's in your head. And that is something no one should ever have to deal with on their own.

"I'm here for you, you know," she murmured. "I know you're still upset I've been hiding things from you, but if you forgive me, you can always come find me. I'll wrap you in my magic and never let you go. Or, you can go to Sirius. He's your godfather. I bet he could make you laugh when you're down, or maybe help you think of your parents. You don't have to do it alone. Asking for help when you need it doesn't make you any less of a Gryffindor."

Harry looked like he was going to be there a while. Not wanting to disturb him, she wandlessly shut the curtains around his bed and unlocked the door. His roommates might need their stuff for the train back to London, but she didn't want to move Harry until he'd calmed down.

Eventually, Harry's breathing evened out and no more sobs came from his throat. His tense body seemed to relax and the darkness in him receded enough for Hermione to fully use her magic to comfort him and calm him. Harry finally met her eyes, his red and bloodshot and the green more vivid than ever before.

"You're not going to avoid me?" he asked softly. "Not like Dumbledore?"

One shake of her head and Harry seemed better. He gave her a sad smile.

"I'm sorry for being so angry," he apologized.

"You had every right to be," Hermione reassured him. "I'm really sorry I couldn't tell you before now."

That's all it took. His mood lifted, and he pulled the signet ring from his pocket to wear as a sign that he forgave her.

"What's the symbol?" Harry asked.

"Your family is a branch of the Peverell family, and so ever since they died out the Potters have used their crest," Hermione told him gently. "This signet ring, you press it into the wax seals and you can put your family crest on any letter you send. I thought you'd want your family close."

Hermione once again had an armful of tearful Harry and proceeded to comfort her pseudo brother one more time that day. When he stopped and calmed down, he was better He thanked her for finding him and apologizing, and for the ring. Harry even started moving around and packing his trunk more diligently, and Hermione was welcomed to stay with him.

He asked about Mr. Weasley and why he wasn't allowed to go, and Hermione answered honestly. She felt the darkness try to creep back in at her blaming Umbridge, but she quickly changed topics to Lord Greengrass in the Wizengamot and her blackmailed date that Friday.

"Wait, but I thought you were in love with someone," Harry objected.

She nodded. "But he's a secret. So, without another person to fall back on and _Lord_ Greengrass blackmailing me, I really had no choice but to say yes."

"That's gross," he wrinkled his nose. "What's he, like fifty?"

"Older than Professor Snape," Hermione said with a secret grin. "He's about as old as Mr. Malfoy, I believe, or maybe a little older. It's alright though – I'm going to tell on him to Daphne and Astoria. Maybe they'll have some ideas of how to keep him away."

"Wait, this is break," Harry interjected. "Won't they be going home?"

She shook her head. "According to Malfoy, most of the Death Eater kids are being told to stay in the school for Christmas. I think their parents are worried about their safety."

It was a melancholy thought, promptly broken up by Helgy popping into the room with five elves in tow. Harry drew his wand.

"Helgy," Hermione greeted, a little slowly. "Would you introduce your friends?"

Harry was a little slower on the uptake, "Wait, I thought the elves were afraid of you?"

The elves all shook their heads, their ears hanging slightly lower. One of the elves raised his head a little higher than the others, clearly the oldest in the group.

"We is worried young Miss frees us, Harry Potter," the elf said firmly. "Young Miss know better now, and young Miss is wanting to help elves be bond to good Houses."

Harry shot her a look, to which she gave her best innocent smile. He seemed to consider it, then nodded. "I guess you're still looking out for them, in your own way. Still, Miss _spew_ , how did this happen?"

Helgy bounced. "Mistress Hermione be helping elf-kin Kreacher, Harry Potter. He is being sick, now is good. We is honouring Mistress with elf bond."

"They are better bonded to good homes," Hermione admitted to Harry, who adopted a smug grin. "Shut up. If they aren't abused like Dobby, they actually get quite a bit out of the relationship. They get room and board, they're happier, healthier, and they live longer. One of my elves actually told me House magic speeds up their pregnancies. She's due soon – with Kreacher's son."

Harry gaped, and the other elves squealed excitedly. Helgy jumped up and down in joy. "Oh, Miss is having strong magic. When is little elf coming out?"

"Csara thinks next week," she reported happily. Helgy squealed. "I want you to help her with the birth when the time comes."

Harry was so confused, he stuttered. "Kreacher, that _old, crotchety_ elf is having children?"

"He was only crotchety because he spent a long time in a house filled with dark magic," Hermione informed him primly. "Once we got that out of his system, he became a new elf. You'll see, just as soon as we get there."

The elves once again caught her attention and she bent down to their level. "Sorry for being so everywhere. So, you _all_ want to be bonded to Houses?"

The elves nodded and flapped their ears. Helgy smiled proudly at having done her job, which elicited a smile from Hermione too. But the question was … who was she going to bind them to? She could give a few to the Weasleys, and they could be passed down to some of the siblings. But … she had a thought.

"Do any of you want to stay together, specifically?" Hermione asked. "Are any of you partners?"

Two elves came forward and bowed. "We is Fennel and Poppy, miss."

Hermione made them shake her hands, though they looked slightly fearful at the contact. She could see Harry repressing a snicker at her, but she ignored him.

"Would you two like to bond with the Weasley House?" she asked, observing the two. "They will treat you really well, and they have lots of children. They're grown now, but some day they'll be lots of grandchildren to help with too."

The couple squealed excitedly, and nodded, ears flapping quickly and happily. "We is wanting that, Miss. Weasley is good house, good magic."

"Well, then, I want you to come with Helgy in three days when I call her," Hermione said with a smile. The elves looked slightly dejected, but she cheered them up with a whispered, "I want you to be a Christmas surprise."

That made the elves inordinately happy, and Hermione had to giggle at the way the elves rubbed ears with each other. Apparently they didn't kiss like people, but the gesture looked unbelievably sweet.

The other elves looked at her excitedly, wondering what their fate would be. She bit her lip and looked to Harry. The Potter seat wasn't up for claim until he was older, but it would be a good idea to bind an elf in advance.

"Helgy," Hermione turned to the she elf, "does House Potter still hold enough magic to support an elf?"

"Hermione!" Harry stepped forward, looking shell-shocked. "I don't even have a house!"

"Neither do I," she waved dismissively. "Besides, you need an elf to watch your back at Hogwarts, and once you turn of age you'll need one to claim your seat in the Wizengamot. Can you really look at these elves and insult them by not taking a bond?"

Harry looked at the elves and promptly realized they looked devastated at the thought of him rejecting them. Hermione was right; who could say no to those giant, tearing eyes? With a sigh he nodded, and pointed to the one male in the group of three.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The elf jumped at being hosen and ran forward, nearly stumbling in his eagerness to bow to Harry. "I is Rue, Harry Potter. You is accepting elf bond with Rue?"

"Hermione's always right," he told the elf conspiratorially. "She thinks you'll be a good elf, don't you Hermione?"

"He'll be perfect for you," Hermione responded with a grin, making Rue nearly fall over in happy glee.

Harry pointed to her. "See? That means I definitely accept you, Rue."

Rue squealed and popped out of sight, probably to fetch a bowl to put the blood in. Hermione turned to the two female elves, who looked nervous.

"What's wrong?" she asked the two females.

One shoved the other forward, and the other elf glared back at her before coming forward to look up at Hermione.

"You is bonded to Frat and Gem, Missy Hermione?" her ears sank low, showing her sadness.

She nodded. "They are good elves. Why?"

The elf closed her eyes. "We is wanting to bond to House Aethon. And making elf-babies. We is not in a House, Missy Hermione. We cans not have little elves without House."

Hermione's eyes widened. "But you're Hogwarts elves, aren't you? You have to be if you met Frat and Gem. Doesn't the school magic let you-?"

The elves nodded, but also shook their head. "Castle is good for elf-magics, but elves cans not be having little elves if we no have House. Some elves be bonded with Headmaster, and Headmaster free elves after he not Headmaster. We is not wanting this, and we is not having partners until now. Cans we bond to Missy Hermione?"

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She already had more elves than she knew what to do this, but she knew what it was like to be in love. That desperation not to lose your partner was one she knew well, as she'd felt it just the other day in the hospital. But if she did this, she wouldn't feel comfortable just letting the elves roam about and rely on other families or places for them to raise their little elves.

She came to a decision. With everything she'd gotten from the fire in her inner-London land sale and the insurance on the 3-bedroom home, she was sure she'd be able to find a home outside of London for only a fraction of what she had in her vaults. She knew that she had been fortunate to grow up in London, and the millions of pounds their home was worth was well known to her. The fact that dentists lived so close to their practice was baffling to the neighbours, but Hermione knew they'd inherited it from their grandparents. It would come in handy now, she decided.

Hermione was going to buy a house.

Her decision made, she opened her eyes and gave the she-elves a small smile. "What are your names?"

"I is Pinky miss," the first elf said with a bow.

The second elf clasped her hands. "I is Trink, miss."

They seemed like sweet little elves, but she had to make sure they were really partners for her elves. She called out clearly, "Frat, Gem!"

The two male elves appeared instantly and looked surprised to see the females near Hermione, but they quickly turned attention to her. That the other elves had distracted her was a good sign.

"Mistress Hermione be wanting us?"

"Are these elves your partners?" Hermione asked with a grin, like she was teasing a fried. The elves looked stricken.

They nodded, and Frat spoke for them. "We is going to tell Mistress Hermione, but we is not sure you be happy."

"I'm happy for you, both of you. I promise," she congratulated the elves. "I was just talking to Trink and Pinky about bonding to my House. Would you like that?"

They elves' ears wobbled quickly, and their eyes filled. "You is doing that for Frat and Gem?"

"I don't want to separate families," Hermione said encouragingly. "I'd accept them if you wanted me to."

"We is, we is Mistress!" they cried, happy again. "You is so good to elves!"

Right then, Rue popped back in with the bowl. "We is doing bonding now?"

The elves taught Harry how to draw his House's name in elven runes and helped him with the ceremony. Hermione promptly cleaned the bowl and used it to bond with Frat and Gem's she-elves. It didn't take long, but Hermione felt better about it.

"Now, Pinky, Trink, I order you not to tell anyone anything about my dealings or anything you see about my life to anyone unless you ask me first," she said sternly. The she-elves nodded. "Now, I need you to ask the nest mother here if you can work for her, at least until I buy a house." They obeyed her immediately and were gone. "Frat, Gem, go with them and let them know I expect them to help Csara with the birth of her son. And, er, tell me if you're expecting little elves, alright?"

The male elves beamed at the request and were gone in an instant. That left her with Harry, Rue, Helgy and the two elves she was hoping to bind to the Weasley house.

"Harry, give Rue the same order," Hermione told him. "We can't have him telling anyone our secrets."

Harry repeated her secrecy order to the elf, who looked overjoyed at having a master to order his around.

"You can loan him to Hogwarts while you stay here, and call him whenever you need him," she informed Harry with a small smile. "If you want that, tell him to ask the nest-mother at Hogwarts if he can help for a bit."

Harry again repeated the request, and Rue popped out of existence.

"Helgy, you remember where the Black House is?" She nodded vigorously. "Bring Fennel and Poppy there when I call on Christmas Day, alright?" Hermione turned to the two partner-elves. "I'll talk to the Weasleys and we'll get you bonded to their house by the end of Christmas day. Is that alright with you?"

Both elves nodded vigorously. "You is good Missy. We is glad you is elf-friend."

"Thank you," Hermione smiled. "Now, you all better head back. Harry and I are about to leave, and we can't be too late."

The elves all disappeared.

"What. Was. That?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. A confused Harry was a cute Harry, especially when it came to magic. He was smart enough and believing enough to enthuse over every bit of magic like it had been an integral part of his life. But when you shocked him, you really shocked him.

She still had a lot to explain to Harry, but at least she had somewhere to start.

* * *

She dropped Harry off at the Burrow with Sirius and left him alone. He was still a little peeved at all the secrets that had been kept from him, and he needed to have his godfather talk him through his emotions. Besides, she had something important to do, apparently.

If there were three partners in her own House, and another partnership in the Weasley house, they'd need an elf-nursery. She didn't want them all coming and going from Grimmauld place too frequently, because she didn't understand the magic they used or how they overcame the Fidelius charm, but they could. She didn't like it. To fix this problem, she needed her own House and to set up wards and her own Fidelius like Bill had taught her. It'd be difficult, finding an anchor stone and a house along a ley line to hold the wards, but it would be good to have a second safe house if Grimmauld place was ever compromised.

She decided to go see Targnak ahead of time. He would need forewarning for her request to break into a vault, and she wanted to get the stones to set in her gifts. More than that, with all the money-savvy goblins at her disposal, she should be able to get a good bit of advice on who to ask about housing options. With the sale of her parent's home and the insurance money, she had far more than enough to pay for a mid-sized home somewhere.

She hadn't thought to use the money so soon, but with the war and her elves, it was better to do it now. Her biggest problem was the Fidelius charm. She needed someone to cast it and make her its secret keeper, or someone to be the secret keeper while she cast it on the anchor stone. Her being the secret keeper might be more practical, but then she'd need someone capable of preforming the spell.

Would Severus be able to? The thought made her pause. He probably would, and if not he was a good learner. But inviting him to do that was essentially inviting him to her home whenever he liked. She shook her head at the thought. Severus would always respect her space, but its not like she didn't want him there. In her house. In her bed. She blushed at the images that came to mind. No, Severus was not going anywhere anytime soon, not if she had her way.

Resolved, she headed to the bank to see Targnak, only to be disappointed that he wasn't there. Apparently he'd gone to o negotiations with other goblin clans across Europe.

She got worse news. Without telling her, her parents had gotten a life insurance policy for both of them. Without the bodies, the insurance company had delayed payout until a few months had past. The goblins had her sign her forms and she did so with shaking hands, but with a heavy heart. This part felt like she was scamming the company, but without a real Granger existing besides her, and her parents lives a secret, she couldn't refuse. She accepted the 200,000 pounds (40,160 galleons, 10 sickles, and 10 knuts) to her account.

With Targnak gone, she arranged the payment to her _tilgnar_ for the gems and setting, left the jewellery, andthen got the name of a goblin-recommended, honest agent that could help her find a house. The speed with which she got an appointment was surprising, but when she saw the housing prices she saw why. While England's prices were soaring overall, the wizarding world was very different. The housing market was horrible for sellers, but cheap as hell for her.

Sales for everything had dropped when muggleborns and half-bloods started selling their homes to move out of the country. They had sold homes as quickly as possible for as little as possible so they could leave, and Hermione knew it was because they were either smart enough or old enough to see what was happening. There would be more of that within the next year, especially once the Ministry admitted Voldemort was back.

The most difficult part was finding a home along a ley line that was completely isolated. Most of the wizarding villages and old pureblood homes were along the lines, and she wanted complete privacy to hide in until she could erect the wards and Fidelius.

There were some available in Cumberland and Westmorland that came with anchor stones, but they were shared with the local wizarding village or were too close to another home.

As it happened, the rocky coast of Cornwall was perfect. She'd loved the wind and wand for a long time, and the cliffside coastal view was spectacular as well as defensively optimal. There were rarely traveled muggle roads in the area, and it wasn't a beach location like the channel which meant nobody would come and develop the area. Not without a massive movement and great necessity. The ground would be hard for themto work with too, to build, but it wasn't a problem for the magicals when they'd built this place.

The stones they built it with were probably taken from the area – they matched the light granite of Cornwall precisely. It looked like it was three stories, although it might be a bedroom area in the attic space given the placement of the windows. Mathilda and her walked up together, discussing the house and the area.

"Its registered name is Whisperwind Cottage, although it really is more of a large home or small B&B in size. It's available immediately. This house has been on the market for quite a while, Miss Granger, but not because of anything wrong with it. There's full plumbing and a wonderfully large hearth and kitchen. Fireplaces in the living room – that one is floo sized if you want to connect it to the network – and there's a smaller one in the Master bedroom."

"If there's nothing wrong, why hasn't it sold?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

The real estate agent gave a sheepish smile. "Well, it's cliffside but not on a gorgeous beach. The wind can get pretty extreme. And there's no anchor stone here. Besides the ministry muggle-repelling wards, there's really no protection. I know you said it was important, but it's not too expensive to get an anchor stone from a reputable Runes Master.

"Another problem is that the nearest wizarding village is in Wales. Purchases by your elves or your own magical purchases would need to be done in the wizarding village of Edtylwyth. And then there's the size. Most people who have the number of house-elves you have tend to want larger homes, and often have one built specifically for themselves."

"There are elf-quarters here, right?" she clarified.

Her agent nodded. "In the basement with the kitchen and hearth. They have the whole level for themselves, including a laundry, kitchen, and personal areas. You could easily house a dozen elves there."

With a quick tour of the house, Hermione knew this was it. It wasn't frilly and pompous like it could have been, and it wasn't too antiquated. The granite was the feature of the place, comprising each fireplace and most of the kitchen. Not including the elf floor, there were eight bedrooms on two levels (one of the attic rooms would be converted into a storage area, she was certain), 4 ½ bathrooms, a large drawing room, an equally large dining room (which she was sure she wouldn't use regularly), and an attic space that that looked like a double study and library, just filled with wall to wall shelving except for a conspicuous space that could house a desk. She grinned happily at the discovery.

The land was impressive too. With 2 acres of walled in land, she might one day have a greenhouse or two for potion ingredients.

In the lower level, she found the fairly decent elf quarters. She couldn't walk inside them because of the small doorways, but she saw small-but-not-too-small rooms with a little space for tiny dressers. She'd need to buy some small beds for them, and break down a wall or two so the partner elves could share, if they did that. Hmm, she'd have to ask. There was a communal nursey too, and a laundry room. Just what she needed.

The cellar underneath the property was divided into two areas, one meaning to be food storage and the other a wine cellar. Hermione had other ideas, and immediately planned on turning the wine cellar into a true potions lab. Add plenty of light and somehow get ventilation from here to the outside of the house, and it would be a decent place to work. And if Severus lived with her-

She pulled herself up short. Wishful thinking aside, she'd agreed with her parents not to live with a man until she married him. Making the commitment to live with each other was exactly what marriage was; a promise to live with the best and the worst of the person, and to be their companion. To love them enough to share all aspects of her life with them, and to trust them not to betray that. After only a couple of months, she couldn't believe she was actually considering such a huge step.

"It's perfect," she told the agent, turning her attention from her wishful wondering. "How much?"

Hermione made the galleons transfer order that same afternoon. The agent had been given permission to draw up the contract right away if they were offered more than 150,000, clearly desperate for a quick sale, and she was happy to oblige. With over a million galleons in her account, that sum barely made a dent. And wizards thought they lived in expensive homes, ha! Inner London housing trumped the price of any wizarding home. She even gave an additional 4,000 galleons to their price, so she didn't rip off the elderly couple by forcing them to pay the agent when they were the ones making a loss on the sale. Within the day, the contract had gone back and forth between them about four times before the estate agent visiting them for the final signature that put the house into her ownership. They handed over the keys and the business was done.

Then came the tricky part. Anchor stones weren't all normal stones with runes on them; the best anchor stones were made from specific rock types depending on what kind of protections you wanted. Defensive and alarm wards could vary the stone type between obsidian, hematite, and lazurite. Family-centered wards, a type of blood ward meant specifically to allow family members access to the wards and were also defensive, could use jade, heliotrope, or quartz, generally. The dangerous offensive wards tended to be made of dragon or giant bone, or even precious gems infused with blood from some kind of ritual. Bill hadn't taught her how to set those up.

She could just use some of the granite in the area, but she couldn't afford to leave her protection to half-decent wards. They needed to withstand the most intense of bombardment.

Sighing because she'd spend another two rotations just finding and changing a set of runes to use for her anchor stone, she got to work. She scratched a few basic runes into the granite walls along the property, adding alarms wards and some basic protections. It wouldn't keep out any Death Eaters, she knew, but at least it would keep muggle and visitors away.

Obsidian was the easiest to get a hold of, and she bought a large slab from a specialized shop in the alley. She carved for several hours with her wand, and double checked the runic patterns and spells against her notes from Bill. THe main thing with the runes would be activating them along her property line, then letting it gain strength from the ley line. It would take years for it to get up to the strength of some pureblood estates, but it was better than nothing. She could probably charge it with her powers a few ties before planting it in the earth beneath her house, just to make it stronger. It would probably work.

When she'd finished carving, double checking the depth of the runes in the stone and that every character was in place, she was back to it being nearly time for the agent to bring younger-her to the house. She packed up and moved down the cliffs, disillusioned, and started walking to the point she wanted to protect. If she could keep people from coming up from the cliffside, she'd save herself many issues. Hermione sat and meditated on the anchor stone, pulling power from the ley lines and from the raging ocean. And she didn't stop.

The magic kept flowing through her, so she kept funneling as much as she could to the anchor stone. Her thought was to keep it safe, so if anything happened, she could bring her friends and Severus here and protect them. She realized after several minutes that it wasn't going to stop. She could charge this stone herself, as long as she needed to. She stayed on that beach and funneled magic into the anchor stone for the next two hours, waiting for younger-her to finish in the house. The anchor stone was teeming with magic, filled to the brim with fizzling energy. Time to put it to use.

At each edge of the estate, she tapped one of the rune sets, adding a little more power to activate it every time. When she'd finished, she took it into the house and started activating the runes pertaining to her wards. With all the power she'd pumped into it, the wards exploded outwards forcefully, a sonic boom of magic that snapped into place around her property. It was fulfilling to feel it, knowing it was her who did it. Muggle repelling wards, alarm wards, and anti-apparition wards (with her as the exception) were added swiftly. The Ministry's feeble wards were torn down and replaced with Bill's best tutored wards. She might revise them one day, or add to them, but for now she felt safe.

Finally, the Fidelius. To that end, she needed to contact Severus. For one of the first times, the necklace protean charm proved useful and she sent him a message. 'MEET ME IN HOG'S HEAD IF YOU CAN. I NEED YOUR HELP.'

* * *

Severus entered the Hog's Head and was immediately pulled into the back room and into the arms of his witch. _His_ witch. And he was not pleased, for once, at her affections.

"Release me, witch," he growled, trying his best to detach all emotion from this scenario. He was too vulnerable, too in love with the witch to be as angry as he deserved to be. So he affected his teacher persona and glared at the witch as she stepped back from his person. "Enough, Apprentice."

Her brow puckered adorably in confusion, and her eyes beamed with hurt. "Severus?"

"Care to explain why you are enjoying the affections of other men?" he sneered. "Is the pitiful, ugly halfblood not good enough for you anymore, witch?"

Her eyes brightened in recognition and she took his hand, still curled into a fist at his side, and brought it up to her chest to cradle it with both hands.

"Severus, Greengrass is a pervert," she said firmly and with disgust. "But he's a pervert who knows how to manipulate and blackmail with the best of them. I agreed to a date because if I didn't, my dealings with the goblins would have been very, very, public by now and I need a little bit of time to finish my mission. I don't want to, but there was nothing I could do."

"Did you even attempt to refuse?" Severus pressed. "Or were you wishfully thinking you could spend an evening with his pretty face instead of mine?"

At that, she dropped his hand, her eyes flashing. "You're out of line, _Professor._ "

"It is suspicious, isn't it? A beautiful witch with all the prospects in the world, willingly choosing the dour bat?" he spat. His self-hatred, his inability to keep a woman, it was a constant companion for the past day. He'd had to Occlude through most of his lessons that day, most especially during _Potter's_ class, to keep himself from turning to alcohol.

Hermione could see and feel all the pain and fear in Severus' mind, and pulled him into her arms. He protested, but she didn't release him.

"I fell for you before my magic chose you," Hermione told him. "I fell in love with you all on my own, and let you be my first." Her magic prodded her, and she hid her red face into his coat. "You know, I thought about marrying you earlier today."

His stiff struggling ceased instantly. If she were braver, she would have looked up at his face to see it. The shock she could feel in his magic didn't tell her if he welcomed the thought or hated it.

She pressed forward. "Does that convince you I'm not leaving, Severus?"

Slowly, after minute of hiding her face in his lapel, he started thawing from his shocked freeze. Severus had thought, after some time with him, she would fall or another and her magic would similarly move on. He loved her, but he'd been prepared from that first day to lose her. Tentatively, he cupped her face in his hand and moved her face upwards so he could stare into her eyes. Concern, love, a little bit of embarrassment. It thawed his shields, just enough.

"You thought of such a thing?" he asked, and she blushed a beautiful pink. "Is that something you wish, or was it a passing thought?"

"Ummm, er, well, ah-" she was adorable when speechless. "I mean, obviously it wouldn't be right away – not that it's too soon, or maybe it is, I don't know- but I would want, NO! Wouldn't be _opposed_ , er, to, umm, that. You know, if we win and kill You-Know-Who, I was hoping-"

Severus cut her off with a searing kiss, putting into it every ounce of joy from her pronouncement into it. She wanted a life with him. HIM. She saw a future beyond the war for him, and one that seemed as appealing as the witch in front of him. No matter his belief that he would not last the war, he found he had something pleasing to want at the end. He wanted her.

"I would be a fool not to have you," he murmured, his lips a breath away from hers. It was a mirror of how he'd accepted her affections, but never was it more true. He'd be a fool if he didn't bind this beautiful creature to him in every way he could. "When this is all over, if you still want an ugly old spy, I will give you a proper proposal. But, for now, tell me one more time that you want to marry me."

She beamed up at him, but her eyes were soft in affection he'd rarely seen from anyone else. "I do, Severus. I want to marry you."

"And I you."

He captured her lips again to seal their intentions, and he felt her sigh and melt into his kiss. She was so beautiful.

When he pulled away, he chuckled at her dazed appearance. "So, witch, if you didn't call me here to confess to an illicit affair or to propose to me, why did you request my presence?"

At that, she gave an excited jump and a beaming smile. "Oh, I have something to show you! Can I side-along you?"

They both knew Severus hated being the side-along party in side-along, but it showed his trust in her when he allowed her to wrap him up in her arms for transport.

He was genuinely confused when they landed in front of the granite stone house. It was not somewhere he was familiar with, and he looked towards Hermione in confusion. He saw the hope and excitement shining in her eyes.

"Do you like it?" Hermione asked. She hadn't thought before that moment it would matter so much to her that he like it, but with his commitment to one day marry her, it became as essential as her heart. "There's a space in the cellar we can turn into a potion's lab, and a huge double library and study on the third floor attic space. There's even space for me to build a couple of greenhouses, since the climate won't really let me grow anything outside. So . . ."

Severus looked at the little witch with wide eyes. "Did you _purchase_ this estate?"

She gave him a small smile and nodded. "I had so much money from the insurance companies and the property sale of my parents' house, and my house elves need a place to call home. I thought, if we ever needed it, it could be a safe house as well. I spent only a fraction of my account, don't worry. I didn't spend too much. The market's pretty bad right now in the Wizarding World, and this place isn't in a popular location."

He let her pull him forward and into the house, explaining the layout and showing him the attic library. Severus was almost entirely silent. He knew it was worrying the witch, but he simply couldn't process the information she'd provided him. His witch had purchased an estate. A small one, mind, but it was still a large space. The rooms she showed him were many, and he briefly fantasized of filling each one with a child before he shook himself from the thought.

 _Why was she showing me this?_

Finally, Hermione took him down to the basement and to the anchor stone she'd put in the kitchen. Adding his hand to the stone, she sent the command to the stone and it accepted Severus to the wards without complaint.

"There, you can now apparate in and out," Hermione said with a smile. She trusted him with that? "I was, er, hoping you could help me, Severus. I want to put this place under a Fidelius Charm."

He froze again, stiff as a board. Not only had this angel bought a house, added him to the wards, and told him one day she would marry him. No, she was putting her full trust in him to help secure her home.

"It is a complicated charm," he rumbled, his voice low so she couldn't hear the shakiness. "And there are additional runes that would need to be carved into the anchor stone."

"Bill taught me how," he was quickly told. "See the rune set there? It just needs to be activated and one of our bloods put on the stone. I didn't know if you would feel confident being the secret keeper, or if you'd want to cast the charm and have me be the keeper. Whatever you feel comfortable with."

He frowned at the witch. "Why would I be the keeper? This is your place."

The flush climbed her neck to her cheeks with a ferocity, and Severus was quickly entranced.

"Er, well, I was thinking," Hermione stammered, "if we are, ummm, would it be called betrothed at this point? Engaged to be engaged? I mean, with that promise, it will one day be both of ours, right?"

Once again, she'd astounded him. No selfish thought or doubt of him had crossed her lovely mind. His Hermione had only thought of this place as one for them _both_. His heart swelled when he realized that this, _this_ place was the reason she'd been thinking about marriage.

"Why, Miss Granger," he crept forward, pinning her against the island, "you are forward. Are you asking me to move in with my fiancée?"

The word rolled from his tongue in pleasure. He didn't care if they hadn't sealed it with rings or betrothal jewellery, that they'd made it provisioned on the end of the war. She was his, and she wanted to marry him. The moment he was able, he would drag her in front of the Ministry and take her as his wife.

The word had the intended effect. He saw the shudder ripple through his with, a deliciously embarrassed look on her face. She didn't object, and so he bent low and nipped at her neck.

"Well, witch?"

"Erm, maybe?" she squeaked. "If, you know, we can't be at Hogwarts? Or, after the war?"

Severus rewarded her with a passionate kiss. This witch would be the death of him. She'd bought a home, she'd agreed to married him, she'd trusted him with her safety … if she continued, he feared his unpracticed heart would burst with emotion.

"My future wife," he murmured, earning a lovely moan from her. "Our future home. Our _future_."

"Severus …" she breathed, her eyes lusty, "I want that with you."

It was heated and passionate, onsuming and desperate. Neither of them wanted to know if they'd survive the war, and neither of them wanted to let the moment end. Thy might have made love aginst the stone walls if Severus hadn't nearly sent the anchor stone toppling to the ground. He sighed in frustration, while Hermione chuckled.

"We need to add the Fidelius," he said reluctantly. "I'd prefer if it was protected."

She agreed, and together they decided that Hermione should be the secret keeper. The anchor stone held the charm as they placed it, and Hermione's blood sealed it.

"What is this place called?" Severus wondered aloud.

Hermione smiled. "Whisperwind Cottage. A mysterious name for the mysterious spy. I believe the closest muggle town is Kenidiack, Cornwall."

"The West country?" Severus raised a condescending brow. "Now I know why it was a quick sell."

Hermione shoved him a little. "One day I'm taking you to a local market and letting the local bitties have at you."

He wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Do that and I'm taking you with me, witch. Let the gossiping Cornish hens just try to set you up with their grandsons and make my escape."

"And if the boys are cute?" Hermione whined teasingly.

He lifted her on top of the granite island and devoured her lips ferociously.

"You're MINE."


	39. Chapter 39

**AN: There were some really great reviews for the last chapter. Thank you all so much! I have Chapter 40 pretty much raring to go, so expect that within the next day or so. Onto the dinner date with Greengrass ... or is it?**

* * *

Chapter 39

* * *

"He what?!"

Daphne's shriek could probably be heard in Hogsmeade with how loud she shrieked. Astoria was more reserved, sitting quietly by her sister as she ranted a raved.

"How on earth could he possibly justify this?! You're _my_ age! And he's ancient! All this time he tried to protect me and Tori, and he goes and preys on somone just like us! That's … ugh!"

In true Malfoy fashion, the boy was leaning back in his chair and trying not to snicker at them all. From the outside, the idea probably was hilarious, but Hermione glared at him anyways.

"I still can't believe he ogled me in _your_ dress, Daphne," Hermione shuddered. "It just felt so creepy."

Daphne shuddered too. "This isn't going any further than this one dinner, you here me?"

"We'll help you," Astoria added, a little bit more calmly. "I apologize, Granger, but you're definitely not who I want for a step-mom."

"No chance in hell that's happening," growled Hermione. "So … what does your father really hate? Maybe I can repulse him away. You know, cover every inch of my skin and pretend to be an airhead?"

The snickers in the corner turned into laughter, which made the girls round on Malfoy. "What?!"

"Granger, you couldn't play brainless ditz if you tried," he chortled. "Your pride simply wouldn't let you."

Astoria dismissed the idea before Hermione could protest. "If you did, father would definitely see through it. You can't act any differently if you want to appear unaffected. The power is entirely in who has control of themselves in this situation."

"Tori's right," Daphne interjected. "Unaffected and disinterested, to the point of giving one-word answers and the briefest of comments; that's how you turn of a pureblood."

"That and talk of jewellery and shopping," Draco pointed out, earning a look. "What? No wealthy man wants a woman who'll empty his vaults."

"So, a disinterested gold-digger?" Hermione surmised. "Okay, so who would my gold-diggerness be interested in if I'm not after your father's vaults?"

"The Malfoys are richer than the Greengrasses," Draco pointed out, earning a glare from Daphne. He raised his hands in surrender. "You know I don't mean anything by that, Daph. But if we're trying to put him off her, maybe she should pretend to be interested in me."

"You?" Her eyebrows rose.

Draco rolled his eyes. "If I didn't know you'd hex my balls, and if we hadn't been on good terms with each other, I would have presented myself to you with the other Death Eater children, Granger. I _was_ ordered to do it by _my_ parents as well, you know."

"So, I should fawn over any connections to Malfoy your father gives me during our dinner?" Hermione considered aloud. Then grimaced. "Do I have to?"

"It would not be wise."

Severus swept into his office where they were meeting, his robes billowing. Draco and the girls immediately froze at his appearance, while Hermione just leant forward.

"Why not?"

Severus levelled his gaze at all of them. "I have been informed that the Dark Lord will be using this dinner as an opportunity to introduce himself, Apprentice. If he hears you fawning over young Draco, I imagine he will offer you a betrothal."

Both subjects of that turned green. Draco, presumably, from being married to Hermione. Hermione, however, was green thinking of making that commitment right after having promised herself to Severus. Everyone in the room were suddenly thinking of the implications.

"Is he going to torture me?" Hermione asked finally, deciding it was the most important question.

Severus gaze turned hard. "Such extremes are usually reserved for his enemies, of which I do not believe he considers you. I advise you to consider accepting the offer he makes, however."

Severus made his implication clear – by warning me in front of Draco and telling me to accept, he was presenting a show for the Dark Lord. But his words made it clear that she was _not_ to make herself more of a target during the meeting. She would let nothing show, and occlude as consistently as she ever had.

Severus turned to each of the Slytherins in her little group, staring each down menacingly. "You will prepare her for such an honour. Do not allow her appearance to earn the Dark Lord's ire."

And with that, he swept from the room.

"Alright, so we need to change our strategy," Daphne continued, much more subdued. "We can't have you make a poor showing to, er, _him_."

Hermione nodded emphatically. "Definitely. Teach me what to do."

* * *

She was forced to make her excuses to the Weasleys the next day, using Severus as an excuse not to be there for the family. Harry, of course, knew what was happening, but the others … She just really didn't want to have to tell Ron.

Severus had taken the time (after a rather heated exchange) to tell her about his meeting with Voldemort. His avid interest in her made sense, of course, from what he'd seen in the snake, but he couldn't very well tell his supporters this. As long as Greengrass stayed in the room, she would be fine with regards to any interrogation.

They both knew it wouldn't be that easy. As much as Greengrass wanted to trap her in his clutches, he wanted her to impress his Lord even more. He would leave her to Voldemort the moment her was asked to, and she would be on her own.

Still, Severus had a job to do and Hermione was determined not to let him suffer because she was too cowardly to help. Daphne and Draco, and even Astoria, had prepared her for the evening with clear instructions and another loaned dress. Astoria's father hated yellow, and so she wore a yellow dress borrowed from Pansy. Proper women wore their hair up to reveal their jewels, and so Hermione left her hair down and worse some simple jewellery from before her change. Simple studs and her Apprentice mark (with the concealed protean charmed necklace collected and stuck to the back. Proper ladies would greet the Lord of the estate with a curtsey, so she would only do that to Voldemort to show what she though of his allegiances. So on and so forth.

Thus prepared, Severus escorted Hermione off school grounds and into the waiting hands of Lord Duncan Greengrass.

He was waiting by the gates like a proper gentleman, coming to pick her up from her guardian's home. Severus scowled, and Hermione grimaced at the picture he presented. He was in full fineries, his smile firmly fixed as they approached.

"Thank you for escorting her for me, Severus," Greengrass said in greeted. She had barely released Snape's arm when he grabbed her and lavished it with a kiss. "And my Lady, you look stunning."

"I _feel_ famished," she informed him, deflecting the compliment. "Can we ..?"

"Eager, hmmm?" Lord Greengrass grinned before turning to Severus. "Who am I to deny a Lady?"

Hermione cast a forlorn look at Severus before she was pulled into the uncomfortable side-along. They landed just outside the Greengrass Estate, presumably so she could be suitably impressed by the size of the place before Greengrass took her inside. It was large and classically British in architecture, but compared to the large but quaint home she'd picked with Severus, every other place was just that – a place. Somewhere she would visit but that would never be home.

"Do all purebloods need such large estates?" Hermione wondered aloud. "As far as I'm aware, you all toss out you siblings the moment you come into inheritance and then you only have one family living here. Seems like such a waste."

Greengrass started the walk forward. "Only a waste when the social season is over. Pureblood homes are quite often filled with balls, overnight guests from social events, and dinners amongst business partners and friends. Less have occurred here since the death of my late wife, as I have not the time to do the planning for such things myself."

A hint, and a poorly veiled one at that. Hermione hid her grimace at the sheer misogyny and instead walked in silence up the steps of the place.

"Of course, occasionally, I have internationally recognized scholars come and research in the family library," he said with a smug sideways glance. "We have many rare texts that they pay quite handsomely to examine."

They entered the door and she began actively occluding, using a fraction of magic to keep her shields in place. She was calm as she replied, "You are fortunate, my Lord, to have such knowledge at your disposal."

"I could let you see my library after dinner, if you like," Lord Greengrass offered. "I know how much you enjoy your studies."

She felt him before she saw him; the pain of being near his possessed items wasn't quite present, but the echoes of them were there in his dark magical storm. Her magic felt colder than normal as they entered the dining room.

Voldemort sat at the head of the table in the dining room, his eyes staring and penetrating. Her mind registered the lightest of probes, the kind she'd often come across when speaking with the Headmaster. She lowered her arm from Greengrass' and stood proudly.

"Welcome, Apprentice Granger. Forgive my inviting myself to your evening plans, but I could not keep away."

"I'd heard you wanted to speak with me," Hermione announced, earning a small grin from the reptilian man. "I must thank you, actually; without you here, I might have been spending my evening deterring your follower's unwanted advances."

"Oh?" he glanced at Duncan Greengrass with a raised brow before his attention returned to her. "You're most welcome, Apprentice Granger. Come, have a seat. I believe we have much to discuss."

Lord Greengrass followed Hermione around the table and pulled the seat out for her before he was summarily dismissed from the room by Voldemort. Apparently, if he wasn't making Hermione comfortable, he was not of use this evening.

"Thank you," Hermione said as the door closed behind the Lord of the estate. "Although, you did just take the place of my date for tonight. Are you going to present yourself to me like your followers have?"

Voldemort loosed a low chuckle. "My followers may have no such scruples, but you are too young for my tastes, Apprentice."

Without the telltale pop of a house-elf, the plates in front of her were replaced with a set of little finger foods – it looked like meat wrapped around pear – and a glass of what looked like a limoncello with raspberries floating in it.

Hermione sipped her drink thoughtfully. "What should I call you? I refuse to call you my Lord or the Dark Lord, and I don't believe you enjoy your true last name. I could call you Lord Gaunt, if you like."

His gaze had darkened as she spoke, and she wondered if he would retaliate. Surprisingly, he simply nodded. "You are becoming well-versed in the pureblood traditions, I see. Lord Gaunt would be acceptable, but only if I may call you Hermione."

"Alright." She popped a prosciutto wrapped pear into her mouth and sipped the limoncello. "So tell me, Lord Gaunt, what can this lowly mudblood do for you? I'm surprised to see you dealing with me personally at all, and so … civilly."

"As are many of my followers," he nodded with a small smirk. "I would be one of them, as well, if I hadn't underestimated you one too many time. We both know you are not the average witch."

Her throat tightened and she took a gulp of drink to dislodge the _aperitif_ in her throat. She took a calming breath. "I have no idea what you mean."

The smirk never left Voldemort's face. "It is not wise to lie to me, Apprentice Granger. I'm well aware of what occurred in the Department of Mysteries."

"I assumed you would be," she replied calmly, occlumency shields firmly in place. "Accidental magic is no reason to meet with me, though."

"Is that what you're claiming?" he smirked. "A golden shield erected by _accidental magic_?"

Hermione elected to remain silent and nurse her drink as they engaged in a silent staring contest. He was waiting for her to admit something, and she was definitely not explaining herself to him.

When the house-elves replaced the pears with a scallop course, Voldemort finally sat back in his seat with a smirk. "You surprise me, Hermione. Most intelligent people would fear me, fear what I could do to them. Do you truly not?"

Hermione considered his question carefully. True, she didn't really _fear_ him; she was surging with adrenaline at the very act of sitting with him, but she didn't fear him. But what was the best response to his question?

"I think," she said carefully, "that you didn't bring me here to harm me, and if you did I would probably have another episode of _accidental_ magic to shield me. You are powerful offensively, but I don't doubt I could escape if you turned that on me. With that logic, there's nothing to fear."

"Indeed." His red eyes drilled into hers, but no matter the tugging on her mind she kept her thoughts calm and her wintery landscape in place. "You're quite sure of yourself, young one."

"As are you," she pointed out, not one to stand hypocrisy. "But you never answered me; what can I do for you, Lord Gaunt?"

He seemed to ponder her question, but Hermione knew he already had a clear vision of what he wanted from her.

"I would like to know more about you, young one," he finally settled on, earning him a scathing look from Hermione. "It may be difficult to believe, but I am genuinely curious. A girl viewed as so young, who aged so quickly. A mudblood who learned to cavort with purebloods, but refuses to play their games properly. A student who has earned a bit of protectiveness from the angry Potion's Master as well, it appears."

Her head snapped up at that, earning a knowing, menacing chuckle. "You think I hadn't noticed? You were clearly told I would be here tonight, and your Master is the only one of my followers you had contact with. Severus may be good at hiding his thoughts from me, but I've known him for quite a long while. He is quite taken with you, my dear."

"Of course he's not," Hermione dismissed readily, although her heart was pounding. If he ever found out what she was ... "He's not exactly mincing words when he says that I'm just his little know-it-all. He uses me to lower his workload, that's all."

"If that is what you wish to believe," he simply tipped his head genially. "However, I have diverted the conversation from its true course. Tell me about yourself, Hermione."

Hermione swirled the wine in her glass as the next course of provençal salmon arrived. After a delicate sip and a bite of the food, she decided on the course she would take. Voldemort was regarding her, waiting and patient for her response to his query. Probably itching to display some sort of power to gain her compliance.

"Alright then," she said, nodding to him. "However, I am not one of your followers and I owe you absolutely nothing. If I share personal details with you, you will do the same with me. Tit for tat, Lord Gaunt."

There. A flicker of amusement and a hint of respect in the redness of his eyes. He too took a bite of his food before answering, a smirk appearing as the moments dragged on.

"And who is to decide what makes a fair trade?" Voldemort was amused, definitely. His eyes sparked vindictively. "I'm certain you will provide me useless tidbits."

"My life is pretty boring," she readily agreed.

"Oh, we both know that isn't true," he chided weightlessly. "No matter how much you deny it and put up a front, you are hiding something special underneath. Your Occlumency shields must be hiding something truly magnificent to necessitate such strength."

She smirked. "Or I just value my privacy. Can you say I wasted my time learning it?"

"Not at all," he assured me. "It does, however, make it difficult to tell when you're lying to me. Very much like Severus. Did he teach you the art?"

She shook her head forcefully. "A hard 'no'. I learned in third year, when Professor Snape and I were on very different terms."

"Yesss," he hissed, suddenly less casual and more focused on her. "The year with your misdemeanour with the Time Turner. Why spend your unlimited time on the exercise?"

"Dumbledore." Her answer was succinct, but it made Voldemort laugh mirthfully. "I couldn't use the time-turner the way I wanted if every time I saw him he could see my abuse, could I? I needed to hide it from him."

"Hence the strength of them," he put together with a chuckle. "Yes, the old fool does have a tendency to wander through thoughts. It's unnervingly natural to him, _effortless._ I imagine you worried your preciousss Headmaster when he stopped hearing you."

"He kept asking if I was healthy," Hermione confirmed. This was progress, she knew. Her and the Dark Lord were actually … bonding. She held back her distaste at the thought. "Did you learn it for the same reasons?"

Here Voldemort actually scowled, thought not at her. She'd probably inadvertently prompted a memory considering how his eyes unfocused, even for just a moment.

"He had interfered one too many times." He seemed to collect himself, reasserting his control over the situation. "I believe that's something from my past, Hermione. Now, something from yours."

They exchanged many details about themselves that night. He told her about the original Death Eaters, and their antics at the school. Some were gruesome, while others appealed to a perverse sense of justice in Hermione. She told him about being bullied in primary school and her newfound friendship with Malfoy. She figured that would earn the ferret at least a little leeway in Voldemort's eyes, since it was his task.

He refused to reveal anything incriminating, and so did she. By the end of the exchange, she felt kind of giddy with how easy it was to deter him from his path.

"The goblins?" he tried to act casual about the question, but his face went too smooth.

She picked at her torte. "They appreciate someone who doesn't treat them like second-class citizens. Something I can relate to, considering your political stance."

That jab had been building all night. The idiosyncrasies of him eating dinner with someone of her blood-status were not lost on her, but she'd been trying to hold her tongue to raise her chances of leaving the night without a round of _crucio_. To her surprise, the Dark Lord emitted a low chuckle.

"You don't consider yourself beneath me or my followers, do you?"

A simple question.

"Not in the slightest."

A simple answer.

"Good." That made her gape at the man, who was now grinning at her without malice. "I have no problems with your birth, my dear Lady. Any being with magic is worth a great deal in my eyes. However, the mudbloods … they simply don't let go of their parentage enough to accept that magic makes them superior. You," he said with a look of annoyance, "proved that when you hid your parents."

She gave him a smug smile, earning a long-suffering scowl in return. Their dessert was forgotten, their eyes were sharp and querying, the opposing forces prepared to fight.

"Don't you want to stop pretending the muggle world is your own?" Voldemort murmured, his red eyes flickering over her. "You belong to the magic inside of you, Hermione. This world could give you so much if you were willing to truly be a part of it."

"I am," she said. "I know I belong in this world."

"However . . .?" he prodded.

Hermione appraised him before answering. He was entirely too eager to have this conversation, entirely too convinced he would win this argument. She knew that Voldemort could never convince her that muggles were worthless, but he didn't appear to be. He was going off of her magic, the acceptance she could have in the world if she just pretended her roots didn't exist.

"I am what I am because of my parents, and I wouldn't change a thing," Hermione said finally. "Assigning labels to groups of people like better or inferior is wrong. There's no such thing, and if there was than magic wouldn't be the criteria."

She wanted to point out that if anyone was inferior, it was _him_ , but she refrained. She'd done well so far, and would hopefully leave tonight unscathed.

"So infuriating," clucked Voldemort. "You really must drive poor Severus up the wall."

"Every day," Hermione grinned. Of course, he also drove her up the wall … and took her against it, and pounded her into it. "I'm lucky I'm smart, or he'd have chucked me ages ago."

Voldemort sipped his wine reflectingly. "Tell me, Apprentice, have you ever wished to enact change in the world? To force the numbskulls who think they know everything to give in to a better way?"

"If you've done your research, you know the answer to that," she said stiffly.

He smirked. "True. I've heard of your misguided attempts with the elves, and your passionate monologues to the young Malfoy. You have quite the tongue on you. Word travels."

She said nothing, simply waiting for him to continue.

"I am merely trying to affect change, you know," he told her tiredly. "There are too many restrictions, too many ineffective structures. You would want the Wizengamot to become more democratic, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," she affirmed slowly.

"And magic, do you think the school teaches all it should? That there aren't some uses for blood magics, some grey area to dark? Rituals long lost because someone in charge decided it may be too much power for citizens to handle."

"I don't know," Hermione said honestly. "But that doesn't mean muggles deserve what you have in store for them. I doubt you'll convince me of that."

It was silent for a moment as they both considered what came next. For Hermione, she envisioned a round of torture at her next slip of the tongue, or some sort of threat to bring her into line.

"I cannot speak with you of all I wish tonight," Voldemort said finally, giving her a shrewd eye. "And I would be a fool if I didn't speak to you further. After New Year, I will send word to Severus of another meeting between us, my dear Lady. We will discuss my views on muggles then."

Hermione quirked her brow, showing her disbelief. "You're very confident I'll come."

"You will for the sake of your Master," he smirked. "I'm well aware your side deems him a good man. If you truly believe that, would you allow him to be tortured simply because you couldn't abide a civilized conversation?"

Hermione clenched her fists under the table and took a deep breath. Just one more meeting with a Dark Lord. Just one. "Fine."

Their discussion over, Voldemort and Hermione both rose in synchronized movements. She bowed her head an left, met at the door by Greengrass himself.

"I'm not feeling well anymore," Hermione said with a fake look of vulnerability, trying to evoke pity. "I should be heading home."

He nodded tightly. "We'll make it up some other evening, then."

He walked her to the end of the wards and she apparated away, intent one one thing; Severus needed to know what had happened.


	40. Chapter 40

**WARNING: A little lemon zest here!**

Chapter 40

* * *

She wanted to spend Christmas with Severus, but the fact that her Christmas was taken with Weasleys in Sirius' house meant no force on earth could convince him to join her. They agreed instead to meet Christmas Eve night, to celebrate the holiday in each other's arms.

As for the Weasleys, the family was happy and excited. And Harry, though more reserved, didn't hide or leave the family to their reunion. He made the effort to be there, although he still couldn't look Mr. Weasley in the eyes. It was progress, and she couldn't really judge. She couldn't look at him either, not after failing to heal him.

But … every time she returned to Grimmauld Place, something seemed off about the patriarch of the family. Originally she discarded the thought because of how she'd reacted to his bite, but upon reflection it wasn't her feeling odd around Arthur, it was her magic. It seemed antsy.

So when the feeling didn't abate by Christmas Eve, she couldn't hold back anymore. She'd tried tentatively tasting the magic from Mr. Weasley, but she hadn't been able to find the problem. She needed to go deeper, but he would definitely know if she did.

So after dinner, while Molly fought with the elves about cleaning up and the kids started shuffling to the main room to sit by the Christmas tree and play games, Hermione approached Arthur carefully.

"Mr. Weasley, can we talk?"

Arthur cast his eyes to Molly, but nodded softly. "Of course. We'll need some privacy, right?"

He led her to the library, taking advantage of the privacy there. Hermione helped him to the chair, her skin sparking with the _wrongness_ she felt in him.

"Mr. Weasley-"

He held up a hand, still with a kind smile. "I told you before, call me Arthur."

She shook her head. "I lost that right, I know I did."

"You don't believe that, do you?" Arthur asked, now sounding slightly worried. "Sit down. Please."

Hermione sat, feeling dejected. She didn't believe anything Mr. Weasley could say would make her feel better, but she knew he felt like he had to say something. The magic could wait until he'd said his piece.

"Sweetheart, look at me," Arthur rasped softly through his damaged throat. "I do this with each of my children, you know; sit down and have one-on-one time with them. You know Molly and I see you as one of ours, don't you?"

She remained resolutely silent.

"We're not hoping to replace your parents, of course, but we talked about it," he continued. "Molly and I, well, we are happy to be there for when you need us."

"Thank you," she mumbled.

"I'm saying this because I want you to believe me when I tell you, I'm just glad you weren't hurt," Arthur reassured her. She clenched her fists. "If I had died, you wouldn't have been to blame and I would have been glad that you survived."

"You're wrong," Hermione whispered.

"I'm not."

Hermione felt the tears coming. "It was my fault. I could have shielded you sooner. I should have figured out how to heal you."

He looked at her with a knowing eye. "No one expects you to work miracles."

"Yes they do!" Hermione blurted out, finally. "I don't know why I couldn't heal you! I should have been able to!"

Arthur looked confused. "Why? Who said you should have been able to?"

"I can heal dark magic in Kreacher, I should have been able to do it for you!" Hermione shrieked. Every pressure that had been building up was pouring out. Tears fell down her face. "I tried, I tried. Why couldn't I do it?"

Hermione pulled herself together, holding herself together only by the seams. "Sorry. This isn't what I wanted to talk about."

"It sounds like you should," said Arthur. "What has Dumbledore been teaching you?"

She growled. "Not the point! I was just going to ask if they'd checked your bites for dark magic."

"From a snake?" Arthur's eyebrows lifted. "I wouldn't think so."

There was no way she was listening to any more. Hermione grabbed both of Arthur's hands and closed her eyes, focusing on the magic she could feel from him and from herself. It was almost intangible, the different, but that wasn't because it wasn't there – it was because it was localized. The curses she'd dealt with in Lupin and Kreacher had taken up their whole magic, being, bodies … they'd been easy to spot to someone like her. Arthur's neck and arm were the culprits, having just a fraction of the dark magic she'd become accustomed to stuck in the regenerating cycle with the rest of his body. The intangibility of the curse made sense now – she could see just where it ended and began now, where before it must have been still spreading through his body.

"Is this a muggle thing?" Arthur asked, confused. "Hermione?"

She could fix this. Realizing this made Hermione's guilt fade, even just a little. At least she understood now why her healing hadn't worked. Focusing on the spots that needed it, Hermione pushed the magic and healing through Arthur and into his wounds.

The negligible dark magic residue lining his wounds evaporated easily from his skin, and his wounds felt fresher in her mind. The slight bleeding that had never ended after he was released from St. Mungo's stilled to a halt, his skin started to knit over slowly.

Mr. Weasley gasped in a deep breath as Hermione opened her eyes to take in her work. His hands went to his neck, feeling for the torn wound. When his hands found nothing, his wide blue eyes sought hers ought and she gave him a sheepish grin.

"Arthur? Are you in he-? Oh!"

Hermione immediately jumped back immediately, worried. Arthur rose from the armchair and went straight to Molly, wrapping her in his arms. Molly's eyes were covered in tears.

"Arthur? Y-you-you're neck," stammered Molly through his peppering of kisses.

Mr Weasley motioned to her, and if she wasn't caught in the room with them both she would have run from the grateful look on both of their faces.

"Hermione, dear?" Molly turned between her and Arthur. "Did you-?"

"Outside of this room, I did nothing," Hermione insisted firmly, to both of them. Then, more shamefully, she looked at her feet. "I'm sorry I couldn't heal you earlier, Mr. Weasley."

She was enveloped in two pairs of arms as both Weasley parents hugged her.

* * *

The Potions Master was in his room, finishing up his marking and trying his hardest not to tap his quill in irritation. He wanted to be with Hermione, desperately, but not enough to compromise himself at Black's hovel. He was a spy, for Merlin's sake, he could be patient and wait for his little witch.

His determination not to be impatient didn't help, and he soon began pacing the room in wait. Severus had prepared, had selected the perfect token for a gift, but he could not relax. There was nothing to guarantee a favourable reaction from his lover, and he needed this first Christmas to reaffirm her choice of him.

Her chuckle brought him out of his reverie, and he saw the shimmering mist leave his gorgeous Apprentice's body as her mostly-naked form came into view. His throat went dry and he swallowed impulsively. She was dressed in Slytherin green lingerie, fit with white ribbons to present herself as the perfect Christmas present. If he could unwrap her every year, it would be a privilege.

"I didn't think you'd miss me so much," Hermione teased. "Pacing, really? How pedestrian."

Her smile and shining eyes graced him with the view of her inner beauty, capturing his heart once more. Severus couldn't restrain himself from jumping forward and pulling her against him, kissing her fervently and with all the energy that waiting for his witch had wrought. She moaned against him and the magic around them sparking and jumping from each impassioned response from his glorious nymph.

"I'll show you how much I missed you, witch."

He unwrapped his present slowly, savouring her whimpers as he teased her wet folds, her sensitive, delicate neck, her glorious breasts. He had her wriggling against his front, desperate for his cock, before he laid her down before the winter fire. He'd prepared for an intimate evening by the fire, and was now grateful for his forethought. The bed was simply too far away with this enchanting creature in front of him.

He watched her eyes as he stripped himself for her. Severus would never get used to how she regarded his naked form, the fire of lust mixed with deep affection that could be found in her chocolate eyes. With her, he felt attractive. Like every insult and rejection simply came from those who could never be her, could never be his perfect witch.

When the last garment fell to the ground, baring his cock for her perusal, his little vixen dared to moan her arousal. "Severus, I need you."

"Your wish," he knelt above her, tracing his weapon along her nether lips, "my command."

The magic that had been there from the first never left their lovemaking. The moment he entered her the air changed, his body charged, his stamina increased, and he knew he would be there – on top, beneath, encircled by his witch – until she was undeniably satisfied. The magic would ensure it.

"Gods," he groaned. They he was sheathed inside her made him mad with pleasure. "So. Good."

"Severus!" moaned his witch. "Please, harder!"

He bent over to kiss her, her neck, her ear. He let his breath tickle her ear as he pumped slowly in and out of her. "You were wrapped so prettily for me. Are you mine?"

"Yours," she gasped, wriggling her hip. "Please."

"If your mine, I believe I can take you as slowly as I want," he murmured, letting out a little moan as he felt her walls clench around him. "You like that? Like me denying you?"

"Severus!"

He couldn't deny her for long. She was too glorious, too wonderful for even being with him. There was not a moment Severus was in her that he wasn't intent on her pleasure. Everything she could handle, he wanted to give her.

After their various rounds of magic-fuelled coupling, Severus held his witch and cuddled in front of the fire completely naked and completely sated. Hermione was curled against his chest, sighing every few moments with a satisfaction that swelled his pride and reaffirmed his affections.

"That was a wonderful gift," he chuckled. His lips planted a tender kiss on her soft hair. "You make a wonderful present."

His beautiful nymph gave him a dazed look. "What? That wasn't your gift."

"No?" he bent and collected her lips in his. "You were wrapped just for me, weren't you?"

He summoned her gift from the shelf, placing it in her hands before she could gather herself into some semblance of thought. Instead of fighting him, as he expected, she waved her hand and summoned a package for him as well. Severus quirked his brow at the witch. "I repeat, you've already given me a wonderful gift."

"You too," Hermione teased. Her hand slipped under the blanket to pat his cock like an obedient pet. "Please, Severus, I want to give this to you. It's our first Christmas, you need something."

There was no resisting those wide eyes, especially not with her hand gently stroking him out of sight. He relented and took the gift in hand, but raised his hand in warning. "Only to satisfy your Gryffindor sentimentality."

She always saw right through him. A kiss was his reward for accepting the gift, a further incentive for his compliance.

He didn't pay attention to her gift until Hermione had unwrapped his own. There was no describing how terrified he was. Rarely did he give gifts, and when he did it was often potions or meaningless baubles. The Malfoys were often the recipients, the opposite in character to his little love.

For Hermione, those tokens weren't enough. What do you get the woman who has enough to buy her own house? Who has goblins in her pocket, and magic in her touch? Even house-elves! A woman with unlimited magic, skills, and hours at her disposal?

She gasped. Was that good or bad? Her face portrayed nothing but shock, and he nervously awaited her reaction. With the gift free from the shrinking-charm enchanted wrapping paper, the rectangle grew in her hands until it she had to prop it against the footrest. He viewed the work critically, trying to discern the flaws before she could point them out.

"Severus," she murmured, transfixed, " _you_ painted this?"

He had. His paintings had rarely seen the light of day, and had never been shown to _her_. It was something he knew no one else could replicate, but that didn't mean it was any less terrifying to see it in her hands. It was a cheap gift, so he'd included a nice frame that he could only hope was worth the effort.

He had debated a painting of her, but he didn't think she was narcissistic enough to enjoy having her own picture around. He would _never_ paint himself, either. Instead, he painted Hogwarts. He'd picked a spot near the Black Lake to replicate. It was the sight of Hogwarts castle at night, reflecting lit windows into the water. It was his favourite sight at the school besides his witch.

"I did," he affirmed softly. "Is it … acceptable?"

The witch threw herself into his arms and he accepted her there gladly, burying his face into her curls to take all of her in. She was getting better at being naked around him, he realized; just last month she would have been pulling away from him to cover her form, but now she clung to him in all her naked glory. It was a wonderful feeling.

"It's so beautiful," Hermione murmured into his shoulder. "Is this about that pureblood thing? Wooing a lady with the arts?"

Severus smirked at the little minx in his arms. "Do you need wooing, witch?"

"It couldn't hurt," she grinned softly. "Can I hang it in Whisperwind? The first thing of ours to go there?"

His heart swelled. "It's your gift, witch. Where would _you_ put it?"

"The front room, opposite the fireplace," she replied instantly. At his raised brow, she blushed. "I don't want it too close to the fire because it could damage it, so not on top of the fireplace, but it should be where everyone who comes to Whisperwind will see it. Although, if you paint more, I could see it in the main floor study too."

"Already commissioning more from me?" chuckled Severus. "You are wonderful for a man's ego, witch. Do you really like it that much?"

"Of course!" she practically jumped at her pronouncement, as vehement as it was, and his eyes drifted to her bouncing bosom. His witch slapped his arm. "Hey! Ogle them later, you still haven't opened your present!"

With a resigned sigh, he looked away from his witch and to the present that had been jostled to the floor. He began to slowly unwrap it. "If this is anything you and those Weasley twins produced, you shouldn't have. Truly."

"Hey, you liked the Instant Darkness Powder!" she objected, her laugh tinkling delightfully in his ears.

"And you were alone in it's development," he pointed out. The packaging finally left her gift, and he glanced over to her. "Stationary?"

"Look inside," Hermione prompted excitedly. "Look inside!"

She still turned into a small child at times, a very endearing sight. Especially naked as she was. Obliging his witch, he opened the Scribbulus packaging to reveal a set of labels and paper with a logo emblazoned on the stationary.

" _PP_?" he asked, uncomprehending.

" _Prince Potions_ ," Hermione beamed. "You only put the names of the potions on vials you send out, which means nobody but the person who orders them knows its you. I thought, if – after Voldemort is dead – you decide to keep with potions, you should have a brand or something."

At his silence, she seemed to get flustered. "I didn't want to presume, but, I mean, I know how much you hate teaching, and, you know, after you don't have to spy anymore-"

He silenced her increasingly worried speech with a passionate kiss. Once again, his witch had given him something to look forward to if he survived the war. Proof of what his heart hoped was her sincerity, her true desire for him to be happy. How did he ever get this lucky?

* * *

"I can't convince you to come with me?" Hermione asked, slowly redressing from their night together.

Snape snorted. "Lucius has already extended an invitation, and a day with him won't leave me with a migraine. Apologies, but I'd rather not spend the day ignoring countless insults at the hand of your 'friends'."

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "Once this is over-"

"You will undoubtedly sit us all down for a meeting of feelings and reconciliation, forcing us into each others' company until we reach an understanding," he smirked. "You are a force to be reckoned with, love."

That got a chuckle out of her and she bent low to capture his lips in a final kiss. "Stay safe, please?"

"And leave you to find some other wizard?" Severus mocked. "Never."

She dropped of her gifts to Crooks and Wes – a ball of catnip for the former and a plush replica of Crookshanks for the latter – before exiting Hogwarts and heading off to Christmas as Grimmauld Place.

Unsurprisingly, the moment she entered the house, the twins popped right into the hallway and grabbed her arms.

"Hey!"

Fred and George didn't even falter. "Hey, yourself! Mom won't let us open presents without you! You're late, and we will not be kept from presents, woman!"

She laughed heartily at their silliness and let herself be dragged into the main room, where the entire family was gathered around the tree. Ginny had little elf-ears glamoured on, and a little elf hat on her head. From Harry's face, and the sneaky one on Sirius', he'd orchestrated that costume.

"Hermione's here!" the twins bellowed. "We can open presents now, right mom?"

"Oh, dear," Molly bustled forward and pulled her away from the twins. "Sorry about them. They're nearly impossible Christmas morning. They've probably been awake for hours, wishing we'd all give up our sleep so they can have their presents. Come, sit by Harry and Ron. Your first Christmas with us, it's going to be so special!"

Hermione was deposited right next to Harry and Ron, and Ginny started distributing the gifts like a proper little elf. Once everyone had the identical red packages, the cry went up, "Open!"

A flurry of ripped paper and everyone had their new Weasley jumpers in hand and over their heads. Hermione's was thankfully not maroon like the boys'. She and Ginny both got lovely navy jumpers, which prompted a round of 'twinsies!' shrieking with Hermione. Remus and Sirius got theirs in beige with black lettering, earning a Black pun from Sirius and groans from everyone. Fred and George immediately traded jumpers.

Bill had gotten group presents: one for his parents, one for his siblings, then one each for Hermione and Harry. Hermione was pleased to get a new book on the warding and defence building he'd begun to teach her over the summer.

Charlie's presents were cool, exactly like the man himself. Each family member got something with dragon teeth. Hermione and Ginny each got a pair of earrings with baby dragon teeth (from their growing phase, she was told). Boys got cool necklaces or bracelets. He played it safer with his parents, with generic kitchen stuff, but Molly looked relieved she wouldn't have dragon teeth earrings to never wear. He chose well with that.

Sirius had, apparently, coupled his gift giving with Remus so the werewolf didn't feel awkward receiving gifts. She loved the fact that goblins didn't care about Wizarding legalities and politics, and simply let Sirius have access to his vault. (A good word from her hadn't hurt in getting Sirius his money). As if to prove he could now contribute, Sirius and gave all the Weasleys and her a new set of quills and inks. Harry got a separate present, but he didn't open it.

She'd given the boys their broom kits. Harry had gotten her a wizarding book on gems and materials she'd been wanting. Ron gave Harry a thing of Bertie Botts that made Harry sentimental for their first train ride. He got her a thing of perfume, which he immediately and enthusiastically spritzed on her, making her cough. It honestly smelt like a vinegary potpourri, too sharp and then trying to hide the sharp smell with floral notes. She gave him a fine smile, not wanting to offend him. "That perfume is really _unusual_ , Ron. Thank you."

When everyone else's presents were gifted, Hermione started taking her presents out of her bag and one by one handing them to the Weasleys. When she came to Bill and Arthur, she pulled two presents out.

"Guys, I know it's Christmas, but I … I knew you'd never accept something like this if it weren't for the holiday, and it's really important," Hermione started uncertainly. She took a deep breath, watching as the room turned to her. "This is the first part of my gift; Arthur, Bill, the present you get depends on what you decide. Which of you is going to be the head of the Weasley family in society? Arthur, do you want to claim your seat in the Wizengamot?"

His eyes widened. "I-I couldn't."

"Would you want to if you could?" she persisted. "It might help some day."

Arthur frowned, then turned to Bill. They seemed to have a silent conversation, acknowledging each other as father and son. Eldest son.

"I can't risk my job," he finally said. "The kids are still in school, and if I upset the Minister . . ."

Bill nodded to his father. "I, on the other hand, don't have that problem. Goblins don't care about wizard politics in the slightest. Does that decide it, Hermione?"

She nodded and gave them each the appropriate package. Finally turning to Molly, with package in hand, she gave it to the woman.

"Open!" she called to the room.

Each person excitedly opened their package. Sirius and Remus, her pack, got the candies and chocolates they had to be missing because of their respective isolations, with extra packaged for Tonks. Ginny got a simple amber rope pendant. The twins got some potion ingredients for their inventions. Charlie was pleased with his new earing, but a little confused. Bill opened the package of the signet ring and Wizegamot robes with great solemnity, and Arthur's eyes widened at the robe-clasp she'd made for him. The biggest gasp came from Mrs. Weasley, who held the large, amber necklace and earing set with great reluctant eyes.

"Oh, dear, it's too much," Mrs. Weasley proclaimed, although her voice warbled uncertainly. "This must have been so expensive."

She moved towards the matriarch and clasped her hand with a grin. "Actually, I made the setting myself and traded for the jewels. It was nothing."

Straightening up, she looked between the four oldest Weasleys in the room. "Besides, as I am Lady Aethon and you are members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Weasley, a gift is customary to propose an alliance between our Houses. These House Jewels can fulfill that, if you want."

"Gee, Granger, you sound like Malfoy," the twins tried to lighten the mood. "All pompous and prickly."

Charlie smacked them upside the head, and Arthur smiled fondly at Hermione.

"You are as good as family, sweetheart," said Arthur. "Of course you can claim us as allies of your House."

"Seconded from me," Bill said quickly, as if it was his job. It kind of was.

Nodding, Hermione turned to Molly.

"This second part is a little more awkward."

The family nodded in understanding.

"Mrs. Weasley, for your family to claim their seat, you need to have at least one house-elf," Hermione explained further, watching the woman's eyes widen. "I know, it's so archaic, but I think it was put in place specifically to keep out people like me. I mean, they have so many ways to check the status of a House and they use the elves to do it? It's ridiculous and nonsensical and just plain ridiculous. Not to mention families like yours who obviously did away with-"

"'Mione."

Hermione flushed as Ron brought her back to her conversation. "Sorry, Molly. It's just … Anyways, a married pair of elves came to me for help finding a home to serve, and I thought of yours. Would you be alright bonding to a set of elves?"

Molly seemed flustered, so Hermione pulled out the ultimate guilt trip weapon. "Helgy!"

Helgy popped in immediately, with the two elves in tow. Their faces shone with excitement and Molly stared, startled.

"Molly, meet Fennel and Poppy," Hermione introduced each elf. "They are partners. Fennel, Poppy, all the red-heads you see in this room are Weasleys."

The elves ears wiggled excitedly as they looked around and took in the number of red-heads. "Many wizards! Strong earth magics! Mistress is good to elves!"

"Oh, dear, I don't know if we can," Mrs. Weasley tried to refuse, but the elves' ears wobbled sadly and they started to look deeply crestfallen. "I-I don't really know what I'd do if the house was taken care of," she tried, but the elves continued their pitiful looks. "Where would we put them?" Bill made a motion like he was offering his disused room for the service. Finally, she relented to the pair. "Oh, why ever not? Welcome to the family."

They were accepted like family, and it was kind of adorable. The Weasley twins broke the ice with them as Helgy fetched the bowl. They asked if they liked candy, making Hermione screech that the 'elves are not test subjects!' The entire room laughed, and got to know the little elves.

Csara and Kreacher came for the bonding to the Weasleys, letting Hermione give them both a patchwork quilt, fabric for them to make new pillowcases, and a set of baby things (a pacifier, cloth diapers, and a swaddling blanket). Neither were accustomed to getting gifts from a witch, but accepted them with grateful bows and reluctant hugs.

With present giving over and the treats coming out from both Csara and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione took the opportunity to give her Christmas gift to her own elves. She called Frat, Gem and their mates, and brought Helgy along to see her new estate. The elves were beside herself with excitement and ran about the basement, inspecting the hearth and their rooms. The female elves bounced excitedly at the nursery.

"We is feeling Mistress magic. This is Mistress home!" the elves bounced excitedly. "Mistress, you be wantings us to be livings here?"

"Well, I'll still be living at Hogwarts during the year, so if you want to stay there it would be fine," Hermione told them. "But I thought, maybe, if Helgy stayed at Hogwarts so I could call her and the rest of you stayed here to maintain Whisperwind, that would be good. It could be boring, but I could always plant a vegetable garden for you to help with."

"Trink wants to stay with Gem!" the she-elf cried excitedly to her partner. "We stays?"

"We stays," Gem grinned at his partner. "Frat?"

"Pinky and Frat be stayings with Gem," Frat said decidedly, earning a happy squeal from Pinky. "Is Helgy stayings?"

Helgy shook her head firmly. "Helgy stays with Mistress and Master."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Master?"

"Yous bondmate, Mistress," Helgy explained. "Master Snape."

Hermione sighed. "So you all know I'm bonded to him?" The elves nodded. "I order you not to tell anyone else about my relationship with Severus. It's a secret, okay?"

The elves nodded furiously. "We understands."

"Good," Hermione smiled. Then, digging through her bag, she drew the shrunken painting from her bag and enlarged it. "Who wants to help me hand the first item in our home?"

With that, it was all decided. The painting was placed in the front room with honour and cheers. She gave the elves galleons for food and other necessities, ordering them to come get her when they ran out and promising that she'd find furniture and kitchen things. The other elves would stay at Hogwarts for another day or two, until Hermione could get little elf-beds for them, making Pinky pout and say she 'isn't needings fancy bed'. Hermione eventually brought the elves back to Grimmauld Place for the Christmas lunch of meat pies and hot cider. They were all welcomed into the family properly, then, with a barrage of jokes, questions, and coddling.

It was a good day.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

* * *

Christmas with the Dark Lord always seemed to have some kind of twist. Sometimes it was an unexpected guest either to watch die or to induct into their ranks. Sometimes it was a special present for a follower (the worst in his memory had been the year every follower _except_ Rodolphus had been gifted a beautiful magical tome, while the man in question received a suicide mission he'd barely survived).

This was his first year back, and Severus had expected something . . . spectacular. So far, everything was standard. The Malfoys held a tasteful little mid-morning brunch for only their closest family and friend where they exchanged gifts. No Dark Lord in sight.

Severus gave his customary potions kits, and received the expensive ingredients to make more in return. The advantage of his only useful trait being potions was his rich friends buying the rarest ingredients for him. They knew better than to gift him anything sentimental, useless, or space-consuming. He did receive the odd thoughtful gift sometimes, like a set of magical paints or a new cloak, usually presented by Narcissa who insisted on babying him.

Dinner came, more Death Eaters arrived, and more standard gifts were given to the hosts and from them to their guests.

Towards the end of the evening, the Dark Lord appeared. He didn't say a word, but he needn't; everyone in the room turned silent and straightened the moment he entered, waiting for his command. The children were left together in the dining room while the marked Death Eaters were brought into the ballroom for the traditional Yule sacrifice. Other pureblooded families might have offered livestock or a magical creature. The Dark Lord offered a few muggles to the tradition, then turned to his followers.

"I have decided on the best gift to gift you, my loyal followers," the Dark Lord looked at all of them. "At the New Year, we will be taking Azkaban and returning our brethren to us! Celebrate today, because tomorrow we begin preparations for the assault!"

Cheers went around, and more drink was brought by the house-elves.

"A toast," Voldemort lifted a glass. "To the regrouping of our family, to the death of Dumbledore, and to the victories this year will bring!"

Everyone cheered. The Dark Lord did not imbibe, instead placing the full glass on the table and moving out of the spotlight. When he got to the exit he turned, and crooked his hand to Severus. He obeyed and came to the exit. "Come, Severus. We have some things to discuss."

Hesitation wouldn't save him. Snape rose from his place and followed his Master from the hall, Occlumency shields up and at the ready. Instead of the drawing room, which was often used to punish his followers, Severus was led by the Dark Lord out to the frosty gardens of the Malfoy estate. A set of warming charms were placed and they walked amongst the hedges.

"Fenrir is pleased with his gift, this year," the Dark Lord told him with a malevolent smile. "Dumbledore will undoubtedly report the loss to you, but I will do so first – we have finally caught Remus Lupin."

Severus kept his face impassive. "Oh? How was this accomplished?"

"Our allies know how to earn my favour," the Dark Lord grinned maliciously. "The werewolves of Catalonia have always supported our movement. Lupin was foolish enough to believe he could speak with them on Dumbledore's behalf. They have surrendered him over to his home pack, to Greyback."

Lupin would be Greyback's punching bag for a long while, then. With Greyback, pack would never be killed at his hand unless there was blood to be avenged. No matter his punishment, Lupin would live so long as he didn't kill any pack members.

The biggest problem was that Lupin needed to be returned by the next full moon, in just twenty days time, or he'd be turning into the original lupine form and Hermione would be compromised. Who knew what Fenrir's hold over Lupin was now that he'd been returned to the pack, but Hermione needed to be protected.

"Do you want me to inform the Headmaster?" Severus prodded with diligently practiced subservience.

"Please do." Red eyes flickered with pleasure. "Perhaps he will think better of trying to recruit more allies to his failed cause."

Snape simply nodded and followed his Master around the garden.

"I'm sure you're curious how my discussion with your Apprentice was," the Dark Lord cast a side-along look at Severus, something of amusement lighting his face. "She is most intriguing."

"Oh?"

"Indeed," Voldemort nodded. "Well-spoken, opinionated, and quite sincere. From Duncan's words, I'd assumed the girl at least somewhat receptive to his advances. Within moments she'd made it clear they were very much unwelcomed."

Snape snorted. "She told me he'd blackmailed her into it. Duncan has less of her regard than even you, because of it."

"So she demonstrated," the Dark Lord chuckled darkly, clearly remembering something. "Although I daresay she holds you in a much more favourable light."

Severus Snape gave a curt nod. It would do no good to deny things the Dark Lord had already surmised, but if they could be misled or the supposed additions were abolished, then the information itself becomes nothing more than it was.

"The girl is a quick learner, and quite impatient; my one-on-one instruction is more satisfying to her than being grouped with her classmates," he explained dismissively. "Did you accomplish your wish for the meeting?"

"I'm further intrigued, actually," Voldemort replied, making Snape's heart jump. "You say you haven't observed any magical anomalies around the girl?"

Snape considered what to say. If there was something innocent he could offer up, it could save him the torture that inevitably followed any failure. Finally, he decided on a course of action.

"I did not believe it to be a magical anomaly, but there is something unusual about the girl," Severus allowed, watching as the Dark Lord's eyes turned hungry for that information. "I have assigned her readings to supplement her knowledge of ingredients and brewing theory. Some were texts that should have taken at least a dozen hours of study, but she would have them read by the next day. As if, perhaps, she hadn't slept the night. She didn't appear fatigued, rather the same as every day."

There. It was remarkable enough to be noted, and it was true so it couldn't be contradicted, but it was innocuous enough that it could be dismissed in favour of other evidence if the Dark Lord found any.

"I will keep my eyes open, see if there are other differences within the girl," Severus continued, ignoring the pensive look on the Dark Lord's face. "Do I have any orders with regards to my Apprentice?"

The red eyes snapped to his. "How do we turn her?"

Severus' steps faltered. "We failed to find her parents, and that was the easiest way. She is sentimental and extremely loyal to her friends, so Lupin could be an incentive, but it would not be a conversion as much as extortion. A true change would need to be gradual." _Buying us time to kill you_. "Perhaps I could start her on some Dark Magic. The Prince grimoire has some blood-based potions that will peak her interest."

"That will do," Voldemort ordered. "Keep me informed of her progress and what you teach her. And keep me apprised of her emotional state; if she develops any affection for one her peers, any of my followers, tell me. And if you discover anything about her powers … There is something familiar about the girl … I must know what it is."

Severus nodded along with each command, while his mind went through the possibility of keeping Hermione safe. He felt a certain inevitability; undoubtedly, if the Dark Lord's focus was on her, she would be found out for what she was. He needed another focus.

"And I want to arrange another meeting with her," the Dark Lord continued. "I will use Lupin as I can, before Greyback renders him useless to me in this matter. I will send the date through Greengrass."

Ding-ding. Lupin gets to live, at least until the Dark Lord next meets with Hermione. That was something Severus could happily report to the Headmaster.

As they started their return to the house, another topic was broached. "You know how much I admire your ability to shut out Dumbledore's prying mind, Severus, but it makes it impossible to know what reward to give you.…. This is a time of giving Severus, and I am forced to ask instead; what would you have me give you?"

"I have only ever wanted respect and care, my Lord," Severus replied immediately. "I have received nothing but since under your command."

"Is there nothing that you've been denied in these last fourteen years that I can give you?" Voldemort asked. "Your brethren will be rewarded with the return of the others come New Year, but you … I want something more personal for the man who has been so invaluable in restoring me since my return."

Clearly no amount of reason would deter the Dark Lord, and any Death Eater would be mad to ask for anything too much from the Dark Lord. It needed to be permission for something, in most cases, or revenge on someone. The first was infinitely preferable.

Something he'd need permission for … his gift from last night popped in his head. Then more, more plans, more need. This could be a very positive opportunity.

"I _would_ appreciate your permission for a personal venture," Severus put forth. "I'd considered training a few seventh-year students to handle potion-making for a brewing company. I've been only taking specialized contracts for years because of my limited time, but I believe it would be lucrative to begin accepting more. A few of our daughters would be useful for the endeavour; Miss Lyra Fawley, Miss Sadie Snyde, and the Carrow girls all made it into my NEWTS class. I'd train Lyra, Sadie, and Imogene this year, and Hestia and Flora the next. They'll none of them be Apprentices while I have Miss Granger, but they could be contributing to our cause instead of wasting away as little housewives."

It was a gamble to try to save these few girls, but there was logic in it. Even if the girls were forced into a marriage with the Death Eaters, their usefulness could be secured under his direction. He knew at least Lyra was unfortunate enough to be engaged to a particularly violent man, a cousin with some Lestrange and a Bulgarian pureblood line in his veins. Even if the marriage was forced, he could at the very least provide her with potions and healing if he could regularly attend her. Contraceptive, too, so she could be free of him after the war. Otherwise she'd likely be confined to his house, stifled and abused.

As if reading his mind, Voldemort pointed out, "Young Lyra has been promised, Severus. As have the Carrow girls. Imogene has a promising opportunity as Lady Rowle."

"That does not concern me," Severus shrugged dismissively, "but they would be useless for brewing if pregnant, my Lord. If they're to be wed I'd need to provide them with contraception."

"Children are essential for the continuation of our lines," Voldemort considered. "But we would be served well if we had capable brewers assigned to keeping our stocks. And there will be time, once we have gained control, to breed the lines. I assume the selection of women is solely to give the men an opportunity to join my ranks?"

"Of course, my Lord," Severus bowed his head. "We must make sure you have all the soldiers you need."

"And you think you'll earn enough profits from the endeavour to also supply our forces?"

"Potions is a lucrative business," Severus shrugged. "There are legitimate contracts I could acquire by this summer, a few of my personal creations that could easily be marketed, and many of the brethren own businesses that could benefit from selling them. This could be good for all of us."

There was silence, but Severus knew better than to fret. Silence at least meant it was being considered and not rejected outright. Hermione had been nervous over the plight of the graduating girls since their conversation beginning of term, and if he could protect even one that would alleviate some of the burden from her.

"I will speak with their betrothed," came the final response. "Those impatient for heirs will be _encouraged_ to choose other, less proficient girls so you can have an intelligent staff. Speak with the girls and inform the parents that it is my will. They will be compensated appropriately?"

"Of course," he scoffed. "They are pureblooded women, and will be treated and cared for as such."

"Then you'll have my full support," Voldemort nodded. "Any other witches you wish for your company?"

Severus shrugged. "I would likely need someone competent to oversee the production, but if not I can start them off this summer and send Granger during the school year." If he lived that long. "Perhaps one of the older wives would be ideal, past her bearing years; one with financial experience. Narcissa, perhaps; the younger girls often look up to her. Regardless, I have your permission to enlist our daughters for Prince Potions?"

"Permission granted. You've shown great foresight in your request, Severus; I am pleased." They rose up the steps to the main house. "Stay with us here until New Years. I will have arranged everything by then."

"My Lord?" Severus quirked a brow. "You do not wish for me to return to the order yet?"

Voldemort gave him a terrifying smile, made even more chilling by the narrowing of his red eyes. "They are not a threat right now. I have a more important task for you."


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry its been so long. I just found the right medication for my anxiety and therefore started working again. It's been super tiring because I lost a lot of stamina during that time, but I'm slowly regaining my previous level of competence. As proof, Here are some more chapters! I redid Chapter 42 because I realized I'd left out a very crucial point before diving right into the Azkaban fight, so here we are. The death of the Hufflepuff Cup!**

Chapter 42

* * *

" _Grishkna_ ," Hermione bowed to the goblin leader. "Thank you for seeing me."

They were met in his Gringotts office the day after Severus had left. She had missed last week with the goblins, especially with everything she had needed to finish on her own. Thought her master had been understanding, she still owed them much more time for the jewellery and felt horrible about what she was about to ask. Still, she needed to do it.

"You are always welcome, Apprentice," Targnak greeted amicably. "I've been expecting your visit, you know. What is the favor you wanted last we spoke?"

Hermione sat on the chair opposite the large goblin and gathered her courage.

"First, I brought your Christmas gift," Hermione deflected hesitantly, dropping a package on the goblin's desk. "I know you don't appreciate human celebrations, but I thought you'd like a gift that would help your people. It a set of potions for your people. You know, most potions aren't portioned for goblin sizes, and goblins can't really tolerate some of the poisons used in healing potions that wizards use, so I thought-"

"You're rambling, Apprentice."

Hermione stiffened at the goblin's astute reprimand, and shifted uncomfortably. Targnak moved the package to the side, not even glancing at the contents before his focus was back on Hermione.

"Tell me your request," Targnak ordered. "What has you so nervous?"

There was a moment where Hermione hesitated to ask him, hesitated to state her intentions, but she knew that she had to stay firm. Even if it hurt her relationship with Targnak, this was for Harry. She needed to do this.

"This is secret, whether or not you agree," Hermione started firmly. "I trust you, but this is important to taking down You-Know-Who."

Whatever he'd been expecting, the goblin didn't show any sign of surprise. He simply motioned for her to proceed, the unspoken agreement to keep things secret implied. Hermione breathed out in relief, and then braced herself.

"I need to steal something from a vault."

That elicited surprise. She moved back in her chair as the goblin started glaring at her intently. Targnak's magic was palpable, much more than she'd ever felt before.

The goblin leaned forward, his voice now anry for the first time since she'd met him. "Is this the only reason you approached the goblins? Did you treat us kindly in a pitiful attempt to get us to betray our codes?"

"No!" Hermione yelped. " _Grishkna_ , no! I love your people, and I'd never ask …. But this is so important, it's life and death!"

The goblin's magic became less angry, but he still glared. "Explain, Apprentice. Who's vault?"

"The Lestrange's."

The goblin expression cleared instantly, although there was still some anger resting there. "I understand, now. The magical abomination I felt …. What is hidden within the vault?"

Of course. His magic was similar in some ways to his own, or he wouldn't have called her _grishkna._ Hermione shouldn't have been surprised that he could feel the darkness of these objects. Still, there was a moment of pause where Hermione considered what she could tell the goblin. She herself didn't know what exactly the object was, but she knew it was connected to Voldemort, and that it kept him alive.

"It's … something important to _him_ ," she started, testing the words. "I don't really know what it is, really – I wish I did – but it needs to be destroyed if we stand a chance of beating the, er, You-Know-Who."

There was silence as the goblin considered her desperate request. He drummed his fingers along his desk to produce the only noise. It felt like she was sweating bullets before Targnak finally spoke again.

"It seems Dumbledore is much more clever than I thought," the goblin finally bit out. Hermione flinched as the goblin's eyes flashed with hostility. "He sent you to befriend our people for his own gains; you are made a spy and an infiltrator."

Hermione went pale. "No, _grishkna_ , no! I-I wouldn't … you can refuse, you know you can, and I'll still come back! I promise, I'm not that."

He held up his clawed hand, silencing her pleading. The pale eyes that had once been hostile turned a little softer.

"Apprentice;" the goblin pondered, "while that is your defined role by that Dumbledore, unfortunately I cannot say that is what you are to the clan. If you were merely an Apprentice like any other, I would refuse you. Goblins do not break their contracts."

Hermione held her breath, waiting for him to continue speaking. He seemed deep in contemplation, measuring all his words before letting them be heard.

Finally, he smacked his hand on his desk decisively, the abrupt noise making Hermione jump in her seat. His voice was kingly, and his expression hard when he spoke.

"I will do this for you, Apprentice," Targnak declared lowly. "However, if you _ever_ bring me a request from the Headmaster again, I will expel you from the clan. From this point on, your loyalties are not with him. Swear it."

Hermione bowed immediately, exposing her neck to the goblin. While this was the sign of submission, it was also the posture for taking a goblin vow.

Goblins are mostly incapable of casting spells and so use magic only in crafting. Because of this, vows can be broken and injustices performed. So in goblin culture, now, trust is never given, but vows are offered only on one side as a display of vulnerability. Strength being everything to the goblin, having that vulnerability on display is enough to keep him in line. And so, a token is taken to show all that the goblin has made a vow, and will be kept to it.

Targnak rose from his desk and took his mighty sword in hand, preparing to take this token from Hermione. Once in position behind her, he slipped the sword beneath her streams of brown hair and pressed it against her neck. The cool metal instantly made her spine prick up tensely, and she felt the adrenaline course from her brain down to her feet.

"State your vow, Hermione Granger," Targnak snarled behind her.

"My loyalty lies with my Master, my people, my family, and my friends. I swear that Dumbledore is none of these, and my loyalty does not lie with him. You will not hear me speak on his behalf again."

"And you swear this act will not be the end of your relationship with the Gringotts clan?" he rumbled.

Hermione gasped. _That was what he thought? That she'd leave?_ " _Grishkna,_ no! I have never been dishonest with you. I swear, I view you as I friend and will do my best to honour that in my service to your clan."

"This, on your life, you swear?" Targnak spoke deliberately, his voice terse.

"I swear."

At her words, with a mighty tug of her hair and a pull of his sword, her giant brown curls were separated from her head and were taken into Targnak's possession.

He moved to stand in front of her kneeling form, clenching her locks in his claws. His eyes were kinder now, but his expression was still grave. "Then, just as I have cut your hair from your head, so with I cut your head from your body should you break this vow."

Hermione bowed down, accepting the _grishkna_ 's decision. "Thank you. I'm sorry to ask you to betray your code."

That earned a small, somber smirk from the goblin. "It's not so severe as that. Our contracts always have loopholes."

That made Hermione giggle, letting out a little bit of the tension that had been building up inside of her.

"Come back here with whatever it is you will use to destroy this precious item," Targnak ordered. "You will cleanse it within Gringotts, and without the old man. This is my ruling."

Hermione was overcome with heartfelt gratitude. She leapt from her kneeling position and hugged Targnak fiercely, making the goblin chuckle. "Thank you, thank you!"

After her meeting with Targnak, she runs out of the bank, hair still shorn and presumably uneven, but she didn't really care who saw and what they'd think. Her focus was Hogwarts. When she got back to the school, she told Dumbledore everything. She explained her hair, the agreement of the goblin leader, and everything in between. When she finished, she waited for him to agree and thank her. Instead, he was somber and severe.

"I'm afraid I cannot agree."

Hermione gaped in disbelief. She'd returned to Hogwarts with the good news and Targnak's order to destroy it in Gringotts, thinking Dumbledore would be thrilled to have her kill this next object. Instead, he'd looked incredibly troubled.

"You just _can't_?" Hermione repeated incredulously. "Headmaster, I understand you're reluctant, but this is the only opportunity we have! They agreed to let me in the Lestrange Vault! If you could just give me the sword, or tell me how-"

"I cannot let you destroy it without me present."

Dumbledore had interjected this, his voice firm but his eyes … Hermione normally avoided extending her magic around the Headmaster because of the darkness that tinged his magic and her fear of that terrifying wand, but now she had to check. Her magic moved hesitantly from her, tasting the magic around the Headmaster. Her breath caught as she discovered that she was right – Dumbledore was afraid, but not for her. No, he was wary. His magic didn't want anything to do with her.

Just like that, her approach to the Headmaster changed. She was tense, now, and her eyes were roving all over his face to discover his true intentions. Something about tasting his magic seemed more familiar now. Something … something was wrong.

"Why are you afraid of me?" Hermione asked lowly, noting how just those words caused the pleasant, open posture of the man to recede into him. "No … not of me, not really …. What are you hiding? Why don't you want me to kill it?

"No need to be suspicious, child," Dumbledore chided as lightly as he could. Hermione saw how tense his neck had gotten, though, and didn't stop her glare. "I'm merely thinking of your well-being. These objects hurt you; of course I would want to keep them from doing so again."

"You're lying."

The two of them stared at each other, each engaged in a battle of wills. Hermione felt light probes from his Legillimency; Dumbledore felt the abrasive feeling of her magic against his. Neither spoke for a long time.

"Do you trust anyone?" her voice was small when she finally spoke. "Do you really trust me, trust Severus, so little that you'd let Voldemort live on to keep whatever it is hidden?"

Dumbledore didn't respond, but simply folded his hands as if waiting for her to continue. Through his magic she felt his fear and his reticence, and it hurt her. He trusted her with the secrets of alchemy that he said he trusted to no one since his friend Nicholas had shared with him. He trusted her to be close to his spy, and to keep all of Severus' secrets from all people. Clearly, the trust always came with a trade-off, didn't it? None if the trust was given freely.

Coming to a decision, Hermione straightened and set a professional distance between them. Her loyalties were not with him anymore. If he couldn't trust her, she couldn't trust him.

"Targnak's condition to steal from the vault was that I destroy it within Gringotts. Without you," Hermione pointed out determinedly. "If it's about making sure it gets killed, I'll grab Bill so you can believe it's gone. But I made a goblin vow, sir; I let Targnak have my hair, and I renounced my loyalty to you. I'm doing this for Harry; _only_ Harry. If you do not tell me how to destroy it, I will have to find out on my own but know this; you have no room for negotiation here."

She paused, letting her words sink in, and watched his reaction with both her magic and her eyes. His magic was extremely sad, regretful too. On the outside, Dumbledore was silent and trying to still project his authourity, but she saw his tense shoulder, his slight slouch.

"Sir," she said, trying to sound stronger than she felt, "if you really can't trust me to act on my own, remove the Order symbol from my hand."

That brought a reaction. Dumbledore raised his brows in surprise but seemed not to believe her. Hermione clenched her fists in irritation; he wasn't taking her seriously! She was twenty years old, both physically and mentally, and a member of the Order. She' done what he'd asked, but he wasn't letting her finish it!

Her magic knew what she wanted then. She had accepted the order's invisible mark on her hand before, but now that she wanted it gone, her magic obeyed her. She exposed her hand to Dumbledore and the phoenix there pulsed and glowed brilliantly before them. Then, when his eyes locked onto hers, she gritted her teeth and pushed. The phoenix rose from her skin and dissipated into the air, a firework of power right before Dumbledore's face. She was serious, and she would show it.

"I made a vow to Targnak that I will not break," Hermione announced fiercely. "If I have to break that vow and be blindly obedient to you, I don't want to be in the Order anymore. I'm not loyal to you, sir, but to stopping Voldemort. And I _will_ do it in line with my own conscience."

She stopped her speech then and waited silently as Dumbledore struggled within himself. Then, from the back of the office, Fawkes started singing.

Before her eyes, the Headmaster slumped back in his seat and closed his eyes. He listened to the phoenix' song, his breath coming and going with its calm cadences. Fawkes sang as he flew right to the Headmaster's desk, coming close to his master. Finally, with the song ended, Dumbledore opened his eyes weakly to regard his familiar with an old, sad affection. Hermione's heart panged in her chest to see the Headmaster – usually so full of life – looking so pitifully old.

Dumbledore stroked his phoenix delicately, his movements slow and full of the same decrepit spirit. He didn't turn to her when he spoke, only focusing on the phoenix.

"The object will certainly tell you what it can to save itself," the Headmaster lamented. "This one is not so strong where it is, and yet it will certainly speak to your mind. Usually, it tells lies based on what we truly fear. Sirius was saved because of your presence and mine, Miss Granger, but I fear if _you_ are the one to destroy it … well, I, myself, have seen many, many of my deepest regrets used to keep me from harming these objects.

"Regardless of what you see or feel," he continued, still not looking at her, "know that oftentimes that truth is a light which, when coming from the past, may cast the blackest of shadows on the present."

With on final, lingering stroke of Fawkes' head, Dumbledore stood and moved to the drawers of his massive shelves and started opening them, searching for something. Eventually, he turned around somberly and showed her his find – a massive fang, about the size her forearm.

"A basilisk fang," he told her, his voice tight and eyes sad. "Forgive me, as I can't allow you to bring the Sword of Gryffindor with you, but this is a perfectly fine alternative. The venom of a basilisk is one of the few things destructive enough to kill these objects."

Hermione gingerly took the fang from his grip, careful to avoid the sharp tip, and then put it in her bag. Dumbledore looked on, wearily, as she gave him a disingenuous smile and thanked him for his help. When she went to leave, Dumbledore interjected one last time.

"Miss Granger, if I may?" he asked softly, giving her a lack-luster smile when she turned to hear him. "No matter what you have been told or what impression I gave just now, I am not a bad man. Please remember that you may always come to me for help."

Hermione was bemused at that but felt his sincerity through his magic. It wasn't as though she thought him _bad_ … Just controlling and untrusting. After a brief pause, she gave him a nod. "Thank you."

* * *

It was a solemn processional from Targnak's office. While she'd been gone, he'd called on his personal bodyguards and her own little bodyguard, Nalfi, to escort them down to the vaults. She'd rather not have them drawing attention to their little adventure, especially given the level of secrecy surrounding it, but it really couldn't be helped. At least they allowed her to go get the last part of their group on her own.

She popped her head into the human office. This was where all the human working in Gringotts had their desks or rooms, depending on their station. All of those employed by Gringotts were either Curse-Breakers, warders, or other sorts of magic users and so they were clustered together. No one noticed her right away, since she wasn't goblin, so she was able to find that tell-tale red hair before fully entering the room.

She decided on the authouritative approach to this. "Curse-Breaker Weasley!"

The ginger stood from his desk immediately, like being called to attention, before he realized it was her. Then he smiled jovially.

"'Mione!" he moved forward to greet her. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to collect you," she said. "Come on."

That made Bill scratch his neck awkwardly. "I mean, thanks, but I really can't take a break now."

That was Bill. He and Charlie were so similar in their jobs; they loved their work and would never cheapen that by doing it half-heartedly or cutting corners. It was something Hermione was certain they'd learnt from Arthur Weasley himself.

"No Bill, it's for Targnak," Hermione clarified, making the Curse-Breaker straighten immediately. "Come on, I'll explain when we get there."

As it was a request from the goblin leader, Bill assumed it had to do with his work and brought his curse-breaking kit with him on their journey to the elevators.

"I appreciate this, 'Mione," Bill murmured lowly to her as they walked, "but I don't need you putting in good words for me with the goblins."

Hermione grinned at his stubborn pride. Such a Weasley. But then she frowned. "I didn't. You're here as, erm, a _friend_."

The lights all went on upstairs, she could see it. Suddenly his face was gravely serious.

"You did it?" he spoke in hushed whisper. "They agreed?"

She gave a terse nod but said nothing more. There were widely spaced human customers walking with their accompanying goblins in the halls. They couldn't risk having the wrong ears overhear them.

A hop skip and a jump away from the human offices was where they met the goblin contingent. Because Bill was with them, the goblins refused to take the goblin paths and instead were taking them down via carts. Even though the goblins themselves had decided this, it didn't stop them from glaring at the intrusive human companion. If she wasn't intensely aware of Targnak's sneering visage she woul have giggled at how the goblins that had become close to her could still focus such animosity towards Bill.

Bill, however, took it upon himself to cure the company of their animosity and prostrated himself before the goblin chief. He thanked him for his help, gave his thanks, everything that would be expected of someone who just took on the mantle of his family. This turned Targnak's already foul mood sour.

"Do not insult me, Curse-Breaker," the goblin snarled. "I agreed not for you or your people."

 _"Grishkna."_

The goblin chief softened at the witch's one-word plea, but he still had the pained look etched into his face. "Let us take care of this, quickly. Then we will speak, Apprentice."

Hermione nodded, utterly relieved. Although she'd left Targnak's office with their relationship somewhat repaired in her mind, she had thought his reaction to having an Order member present for this indicated his deeper reluctance to forgive her. It seemed so, but at least he was trying to keep himself from letting the anger get to him. He was a good leader to his people.

The goblins separated from her, Bill, and Nalfi, and got into the frontmost cart. Hermione's party got into the one behind them, Nalfi at the helm to drive the thing.

"Thank you," Hermione said. Nalfi smiled at her. "Really."

"Hold on, ma'am," Nalfi said with a smile. "This is going to be a long trip."

The build-up was slow along the tracks for the first few feet, the cart screeching forward. Then, when they went through the tunnel, they started dropping. Faster and faster, through a waterfall and through dark passageways. Hermione screamed in fright at the speeding rumbling of their metal holding. She had always hated going on rides in amusement parks. Bill, next to her, gave out loud yelps whenever they dropped another lever. Down and down they went until finally they screeched to a halt behind Targnak's cart and Hermione let her eyes pop open.

The goblins in the other cart had already disembarked and were standing to the side of their own, waiting for the three left in their party to disembark. Bill and Nalfi hopped out of the cart speedily, but Hermione … she tried to stand and walk out, but her legs were like jello as she wobbled forward. Getting out of the cart she pitched forward, nearly face-planting on the ground and only saved because Bill had rushed to right her by grabbing her arm and keeping her upright.

"You all right?" he asked concerned.

She gave an embarrassed smile. "I don't like roller coasters. Reminds me of flying."

"Rolla Coasters?" Bill asked with a tilt of his head.

Hermione's laugh was shaky, but it was hearty. "Muggle thing. Never mind."

With that awkwardness past, the group moved on to the Lestrange Vault. Unlike the vaults on the upper floors, these ones screamed of opulence and privilege. High ceilings, columned arches, and large, embossed doors to the vaults all screamed of status. There was even a dragon guarding the vaults! But one look from Targnak was enough to subdue the beast into a trance-like sleep.

"Ummm …. Where did you get a dragon?" Hermione asked them as she surveyed the beast's injuries.

Targnak gave her a disproving glare. "You think we've mistreated the creature, Apprentice?"

"Er, not. .. exactly," she stammered, unwilling to deny what the truth was in her mind. "But, umm … how did it get so injured."

And it was. There were large tears across its scales, burn marks along its legs, and even its eyes seemed too pale to be healthy. She was certain the creature must be blind.

"Do not concern yourself, Apprentice," Targnak growled. "You have a more important task, don't you?"

Hermione faltered briefly, wanting to go check on the dragon herself, but she pressed forward with the goblins. They were right; she needed to focus on one thing at a time, and now was the time to focus on the dark object in the Lestrange Vault.

The goblin contingent formed a barrier between the door and their human company, clearly keeping them from being exposed to the security measures of the vault. Targnak marched forward to the impressive door and commenced the unlocking procedure. This was something Hermione had indeed been taught by the goblins – their magic was of the earth, and so was all of Gringotts. A series of accurately placed bursts of magic and those goblins gifted enough to use magic could get earth to obey them. Targnak was the strongest of them all, and with a few short presses in points along the large door, his magic had pulled the vault open.

The rush of air into the vault was nothing compared to the surge of magic that came out of it. Hermione immediately felt the immeasurable pain shoot through her magic and fought to remain standing through it.

Bill and Targnak both turned to her as she started to shake. Targnak, knowingly, and Bill, with concern.

"'Mione, you're alright?"

She nodded firmly, but lurched with each creak of the doors opening. What had the previous grishkna's done to their doors to contain all that dark magic? Targnak kept his grip on the doors strong until the end, but the second the doors had completely opened he hurried towards Hermione and offered her a hand. She looked at him hazily, not quite focused.

"Your hand, Apprentice," the goblin ordered. "Let our magics help one another."

Hermione vaguely felt herself nod and her hand ended up somehow in the gnarled grip of the lead goblin's claws. Just as with Severus, the magic ran in a magical circuit of restoration. But without Severus, the magic kept growing and growing. It grew into a field around them, granting some reprieve form the dark magics coming from the vault.

"Apprentice, you must be at full strength," Targnak ordered now that her focus had returned. "Ground yourself."

When she understood what he was saying, she cast a terrified look at Bill.

"Do it!"

Damn the consequences, even with Targnak the dark magic in the vault seemed to burn against her magic. Resolved, she slipped off her shoes and placed her bare feet on the stones beneath her. The magic rushed from below her and joined the magical circuit. It pushed the darkness even further away and restored a semblance of calm around her although she felt the storm raging beyond the pair. The surge of magic went from her feet to the crown of her head, and tingled there. Hermione gasped as the magic restored the hair to the length it had been before her vow, both in amazement and horror.

"Grishkna-!"

He shook his head. "It is not your doing, Apprentice. Do not feel guilty for the restoration of your hair."

Calm somewhat repaired, the witch looked beyond her own little circle. The goblins with them seemed unsurprised by her glow, and yet, Bill had the same dumb look Ron often wore in class when a piece of magic seemed particularly impossible.

But there was a more pressing issue than the Weasley to her right. She and Targnak turned their attention to the vault, each using their magics to search through the various dark objects. Targnak was relying on Hermione to find it, for her had no idea what she was specifically looking for, but still lent his magic to the search. There were many dark objects there in the vault, he noted. Too many than were allowed. Perhaps, soon, he could close the vault for a routine examination.

It wasn't long before Hermione found the foulest source of dark magic. High on the tallest shelf lay a cup of gold, different in design from nearly every other piece in the vault. It was … deceptively kind-looking, with all rounded edges and swirling designs.

"That cup!" Hermione pointed fiercely.

The goblin guards jumped up immediately and dove towards the object. Now that Targnak knew what the object looked like, he barked orders to the guard. "Lower the shelf! Don't touch it! Pedark, capture its likeness and get it to the smiths, we need a copy as soon as can be available! Curse-breaker, if you're here, be useful, identify the object!"

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the Apprentice. She was shaking as the object was brought closer, out of the vault. Her reaction seemed unreasonably severe, but that was not his concern. The issue was that her free hand had reached into her leather satchel and brought out a large Basilisk tooth. Her hand loosened in his and he knew she was planning on leaping forward and stabbing through the item. He clenched her hand so hard she jumped and turned to him.

"Not yet, Apprentice," Targnak rumbled, eyeing the fang poignantly. "Let us handle this first."

"But … I have to destroy it."

She was unfocused in his eyes, her body more tense than she'd ever been in the company of goblins before. Her physical form knew to be afraid, but she was determined nonetheless. Targnak shook his head at her.

"We will allow you to destroy it," Targnak vowed, "but first I wish to know what has been lurking in this vault. Let your friend do his job."

So both _grishkna_ s stood back, watching as the contingent of goblins finished recording everything about the item, taking its photo, and who knew what else Targnak had ordered them to do as Bill hunched over it and waved his wand over it in intricate motions that he had not taught her. Hermione guessed they had only time to learn warding and then only to intermediate level and then the rest she'd had to glean from books. No time for curse-breaking, not really.

But something was wrong with his spell-casting. None of the spells were connecting, none of them were giving him readings. Bill had a procedure he always worked with for objects like this; it was a list of spells that eliminated and added possibilities the longer it went on until he was certain of what he had. He was nearing the end of his list and was dreading what the final spell would find. He was afraid that the bad feelings that were leeching from the cup indicated what he guessed it might be. If it was …. Dumbledore had been lying to them, and the battle was much more grave than he'd thought.

Just as he feared, he was down to one more diagnostic spell. With a slow pace, ensuring accuracy for the spell he hadn't cast in two or three years, he cast it.

Hermione watched as the cup shrieked and spat, pushing the group back a few steps from where it sat on the ground. "Bill!"

The curse-breaker was clearly angry, that much was certain. "One more test, then."

He pulled a few pouches of powder from his curse-breaking kit, eyeing the cup as he selected the one to try first. Then he threw the violet powder towards the cup.

The moment the substance touched the shimmering gold surface it burst into a horrifying green flame.

"Damn!" Bill jumped back from the edge of the flames, barely avoiding burning his hands. "Damn everything!"

"Bill, are you okay?"

Bill didn't have a chance to respond as the powdered flames started swirling around the golden cup. Everyone backed up from the strange magical fire that had begun to form.

"Targnak, it needs to be destroyed, now!" Bill roared, holding his wand defensively. "The cup can't be saved!"

The flames curled and twisted, scaring all the viewers with each move it made, pushing everyone further away. Hermione among them, until she heard a voice whisper from the flame.

 _'Leave! You are hurting me!'_

She stopped then, solely focused on the voice. No one else had seemed to hear it, and so she listened closer. She _felt_ the voice and knew that it was speaking only to her.

"You don't really feel," Hermione argued, nearly in whisper. Targnak looked at herquizzically, but she didn't catch the glance. "You are not alive."

 _'I am a soul!'_ the voice argued. _'You cannot kill me, girl. You are bound to preserve life.'_

"I don't feel like protecting you," she pointed out. "You can't be alive."

Bill and Targnak finally pieced together why Hermione was just standing there, talking, and immediately moved. To protect her. Sensing their intentions, the creature of flames lashed out, separating Targnak from her and keeping Bill preoccupied with defending himself. Hermione didn't seem to feel Targnak releasing her hand, and the pain never increased. Like the cup was avoiding her as well.

 _'You are wrong,'_ the cup argued right back, feeding into her curiousity.

Hermione felt the presence shift, shift marginally, and suddenly it dawned on her with a wave of her own magic bringing that enlightenment with her. The reason this dark magic always felt so familiar, the reason she'd been uneasy in Dumbledore's presence before, why it had reminded her of Voldemort … they felt the same. All were tainted with the same painful magic, with the exact same mental colouring.

 _Dumbledore …_

 _'Yes, you see it now,'_ the voice continued. _'The old man is a hypocrite! He knows I present no danger, he has one of us just the same as his supposed enemy!'_

Another connection jumped to her mind. The darkness that always seemed to jump into Harry at the drop of the hat was the same as the cup's at its own vitriolic speech. Her heart stopped. Harry …

 _'Your friend … your friend is cursed by that old man,'_ the cup whispered. _'You've seen what happened to the ring … to the diadem … What do you think must happen to the boy you see as a brother?'_

"No, no, you're wrong!" Hermione screamed at the cup. "Stop trying to confuse me!"

 _'The truth hurts, doesn't it, you poor girl?'_

Hermione's brain thought back to Dumbledore's words right before she'd left the office. _"Truth is a light which, when it comes from the past, can cast the blackest of shadows upon the present."_ He was warning her, warning her of what she'd discover when faced with this item. He had known she would discover this from the object.

 _'You don't need to risk your loved ones to kill me, it isn't worth it.'_

The flames shifted into the center, reflecting an image of the exact image that had popped into her head a moment earlier at the mention of her loved ones. First Harry, curled up in the bed with his eyes covered in tears as he started falling for the sleep. Then it shifted. Severus Snape, his face as he clutched the flowers for the Potter's grave, the utter loneliness that was replaced by a fierce determination to take her away from danger no matter that she had broken his heart.

Bill's jaw dropped and he nearly missed dodging the tendril of flame at the image the fire presented. "Snape?" But as he looked at Hermione, he saw a look in her eye that told him everything. The subtle change in her spirit as she looked at the image of the man the cup presented in its manipulations, the burning inner fire that had just been stoked. She was in love.

 _'He was bringing flowers to her grave, this man you love,'_ the flames roared but the voice was speaking in whisper. _'How will he feel knowing the boy must die if the old man has his way?'_

It was like a stab to her chest. She hadn't brought up Lily again since their discussion at the beginning of term. Not even after he had brought those flowers to the Potter grave. It was the one loose thread that the flames could pick apart in their relationship, and it had struck ruthlessly. But Hermione knew it was an act of desperation. It had no more truths to pull on to get her to halt.

She shouldn't delay any more, her magic reminded her. She needed to strike.

 _'Don't!'_ the voice ordered. _'Your friend will only suffer the same fate! You heard the curse-breaker! The cup could not be saved, neither can your friend!'_

Her magic defended her from the fire as she pulled the basilisk fang from her bag.

 _'You will turn into a murderer!'_ The voice accused, giving it one last chance. _'You are killing a soul!'_

"'False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil,'" Hermione quoted at the being. "I am not a murderer if I destroy you. This is a defense of home and family, which your creator is threatening. Goodbye."

Rushing forward and defended from the flames, she rose the basilisk fang in her grip and aimed, taking the moment to center it, before she thrust it down with all her might.

Like a black hole, the wound in the metal seemed to suck all the flame back into it as if channeling the flames in a final attempt to keep itself alive. The metal screeched and popped, and the voice that had heretofore been only in Hermione's head suddenly cried aloud in unbearable pain.

Then it ended.

The last of the flame was sucked into the cup, and the voice ended its shriek with a ghostly moan that led into a simple and eerie silence. Hermione could only hear hers and her companion's heavy breathing as they all stared at the cup, waiting, watching to see if it was safe. Staring at the basilisk fang sticking out of it.


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N: I replaced Chapter 42, and moved the previous Chapter 42 to Chapter 44. So, please go back and reread chapter 42 if you want to know what's going on!**

* * *

Chapter 43

* * *

Hermione ran through the halls of Hogwarts, her Apprentice clothes whipping around her with how fast she was going. Students still around for break stared at her as she sprinted like a flying Valkyrie through the halls on her own, personal warpath.

It may have seemed rash, illogical, but she had finished the thinking she needed to do when Bill had told her what that object had been.

* * *

 _"What was that thing?" Hermione murmured faintly. Only Bill was there, keeping her company while the goblins ran about in the aftermath of the burning that had occurred._

 _Bill placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's best not to know, sis. I wish I didn't."_

 _"Bill, please!" Hermione brushed his hand off. "I'm not a little girl, and this is something I need to know. I need to protect Harry."_

 _The eldest Weasley hesitated, and then … "It's a Horcrux."_

 _"…What?"_

 _Bill settled into the space next to her, his face ridden with pallor. "I've only come across one before, in Egypt. I didn't know what it was at the time, I barely knew how it was possible, but my Master wasn't surprised. The Egyptians weren't well-versed in much magic, but the magic they mastered was the Death branch._

 _"It's a piece of a person's soul."_

 _Hermione wasn't surprised. Many would doubt the words of the malicious magical spirit that had been in her mind, but she could feel its magic and knew the moments it was lying and the moments it told the truth. She waited, patiently, to see if the rest of the horrid words were true._

 _"My master put it best;" Bill explained, "he said a Horcrux is the exact opposite of a human being. It's a piece of soul that has been torn and mangled horribly, incapable of connecting to anything around them. Any light magic is completely beyond them, and even reason itself because skewed._

 _"There are no records of Horcruxs anymore, at least not anywhere that has been discovered yet," he continued, his face emotionless and bleak. "Any traces we found in that tomb we destroyed. But I do know a few things: I know the ritual itself is too horrible for only the worst of men to consider with self-mutilation and multiple sacrifices; I know that it takes the death of someone with whom you've built a personal connection; and I know that it puts a piece of soul into a kind of vessel. In Egyptian culture, it was common to keep it in the vessels where the organs would be kept after mummification. Its lucky the Egyptians don't believe in using any other bodies but their own, or we'd have worse than mummies to fight."_

 _Hermione inhaled sharply. "And … could the soul piece possess … a person?"_

* * *

Dumbledore was waiting at his desk the moment the walls shook with his door slamming open. Nowhere to be seen was his regular sparkling smile, his phoenix Fawkes, or his regular straight-backed posture. He was seated with his normally cluttered desk emptied but for two goblets and a bottle of Olfactive Ouzo.

"Close the door, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said calmly.

The crash of the slamming door echoed loudly in the office before Hermione rounded on the Headmaster. "You knew! I came to you because I trusted you! I told my suspicions about Harry, and you said nothing! You knew he was being possessed by a Horcrux! You knew that Voldemort was immortal, and you hid it from everyone! HOW DARE YOU!"

The old wizard was calm in the face of her accusations, nearly resigned. "Please, have a seat. I will explain everything."

"I will stand," Hermione hissed. "And you will DEFINITELY explain."

Dumbledore took a moment to swirl the liquid in his goblet. The sight made her temper flare, like he was once again dismissing her, not taking her seriously.

"ANSWER ME!"

He did. From the first Horcrux he became aware at Myrtle's death.

"I knew from Tom's student days he had created such an object," Dumbledore started. His voice held a glimmer of sadness, of resignation to his tale. "That level of death magic performed under my nose, I of course knew. I didn't truly comprehend, however, until the ritual had finished and young Miss Myrtle had been killed. I could not have prevented it, especially since Tom did his most to hide everything from me."

"How could you _feel_ it?" Her mind went back to her revelation, her magic prompting it out of her. "Is it because … you'd done the same thing as him?"

Dumbledore had been expecting her revelation, but still his core chilled. To this day, the only people alive who knew of his own dabbles were either his brother, or the Dark Wizard that was currently imprisoned far away in Nurmengard. He'd known from the moment she'd said she could feel the darkness possessing young Harry that one day, she'd feel the lingering darkness along the healed seams of his soul, but still he hesitated.

"I'm right, aren't I?" she said to his, her voice filled with contempt. "You have a Horcrux?"

Sadly, resignedly, he shook his head. "No longer, though you are correct. I once had a Horcrux of my own. Please, Miss Granger, before you are horribly disgusted with me, will you hear my story?"

Hermione was so shook by the feelings emanating from his, the loss and longing paired with his own terrible fears, she sat in the chair opposite him on the desk. She felt like this story, the one he was about to tell, had never been told before.

"Thank you."

The old man reached into his desk, his hand shaking feebly as he pulled a small, unassuming tin box from his drawers. It was battered and slightly tarnished, but along the edged it shone as if it had been well-handled. He kept it firmly in his hands, his feelings in turmoil, before he took a slow breath and opened the box.

Inside lay a ring. It glinted like it was made from a dragon forge, thick enough for a man but still studded with gems. It must have once been beautiful, but was now malformed and looked half-melted, it's entire structure no longer set but seemingly without the ability to retain its form. _Could this be … ?_

"This was not my Horcrux," Dumbledore assuaged her curiousity immediately. "However, it belonged to the man I loved more than anything. The man you know as the dark wizard, Grindelwald.

"It was many years ago, back in the early days of my youth. My sister, Ariana … I was her caretaker. And I resented it, Miss Granger. I was gifted, I was brilliant. I wanted to escape. I wanted to shine. I wanted glory. Do not misunderstand me. I loved them... but I was selfish... So that, when my mother died, and I was left the responsibility of a damaged sister and a wayward brother, I returned to my village in anger and bitterness. Trapped and wasted, I thought! And then of course, he came...

"He was so similar to myself, but even more passionate," Dumbledore continued, his face lit with a nostalgic smile. "He took me with him on expeditions abroad where we studied great ancient magics and discovered new magics. At some point we had too many drinks, our tongues became as loose as gossipy old ladies, and I confessed my feelings for the man."

He sighed. "It was in one of our expeditions after we became lovers that we learned the truths of the Deathly Hallows. Are you familiar with the children's tale 'The Tale of Three Brothers', Miss Granger?"

She shook her head, unwilling to vocalise and interrupt his thought process.

"'There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.

' "So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother.

'"Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.

'"And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility."'

"A cloak …?" Hermione gasped, her throat becoming tight. "It's not …"

"Harry's very own," Dumbledore confirmed, his voice sad. "And the wand … well."

He presented the wand, the very one that made her flinch, and looked at it wistfully.

"It is called the unbeatable wand," he explained sadly. "Made with death magics and the tail of thestral hair – not by death, but by the eldest Peverell brother – it has amazing power."

Hermione hesitated, thinking it through, but couldn't help her question. "But, I've never felt any darkness in Harry's cloak."

Dumbledore smiled, but pocketed the wand. "That is because it was originally a cautionary tale. Death was never a part of the creation of such objects except metaphorically. The other two brothers dabbled in the dark, death magics, producing powerful objects. But those objects also led to their demise. The third brother, he just wanted to avoid anything to do with death. He didn't want its power or its ability to interact with the dead, he wanted to live away from the dark his brothers sought. And so, he lived a long and healthy life that his brothers did not.

"Yet, that is not what two young boys took from the story. We believed that if we could defeat death, find all his hallows and take the three powers we say from his, we would become unbeatable. So when we found information on a way to meet Death's invincibility, to become immortal, Grindelwald jumped at the opportunity."

"And you?"

He gave a sad smile. "I was tempted. And with my own justification for my actions, my own foolish and childish notion that the ends justified the means no matter the cost, and the hatred I had been building in my soul for so many years at being held back from my own potential, I fell. I joined my love in the ritual and I split my very soul right down the middle. He gave me his Horcrux in this ring, a promise between the two of us.

"Then, one summer, we returned to England. My family noticed the darkness that had overcome me and tried to get through to me, not knowing it was too late for me. My little sister, she was so much younger than me, she was a vessel for a terrible obscurial. I hated her for it for the longest time; I was forced into the role of caretaker, older brother, secret-keeper … And Grindelwald knew this. I had spoken often enough about it for him to want to meet my little sister. He was fascinated, as was I, about the magic contained in such a powerful form.

"Her name was Ariana," Dumbledore spoke in nearly a whisper. "I treated her horribly, moreso when I had become the monster without a soul. My brother, Aberforth, found us provoking her, studying her one day. Those who have no soul have no compassion, Miss Granger, not without effort. I was ruthless in my pursuit of knowledge and when Grindelwald mentioned that I had a rare and unexplored magic right in my home, I didn't even blink. We were trying to lure out the obscurial, but Aberforth could see the pain we were causing her and tried to stop us. WE fought, and at some point during the fight, one of our spells struck my dear sister, Ariana. My sweet, kind sister, who never once treated me unkindly no matter what I had done to her.

"She died instantly."

Hermione stiffened. She knew, hypothetically, that he had to commit more than one murder to actually create a Horcrux, but this was different. This was his sister, a name and a person that could be easily conjured up in an image in her mind.

"I will never know which of us killed her," Dumbledore lamented, his eyes gathering tears and his voice growing hoarse. "No matter who it was though, I was the one who killed her. I created the situation, and I was the one who refused to stop. I was the one who failed her in that moment.

"The only way to fix the soul is through what religions would call 'true repentance'," he looked so pained as he spoke of it. "But, at that time, I didn't believe in God, only magic. I had no idea how to make what I'd done right, although I knew I never could. So many people had died because of me and I thought no amount of remorse could fix it."

Hermione interjected, "But you did."

"At great personal cost," he smiled wearily. "Putting your soul back together is painful, and the scars never heal. They are always there, reminding you to never go down the same road again. You will, hopefully, never know a pain like it."

He carried on. They went through the tale of him and Grindelwald, how the parted ways when Dumbledore realized he could never truly love him again without his soul. How he was allowed to keep the ring because Grindelwald viewed his love as a weakness, one that would never allow the man who loved him to destroy a part of him. Dumbledore shared how he'd hidden, hoping someone else would face his ex-lover and that he would not be forced to intervene. Finally, he'd been driven by the sheer threat and death toll to destroy his Horcrux and face the man himself, leading to the historic moment that had given him an Order of Merlin, First Class.

"That's why you never add it to your title," Hermione murmured, her understanding growing. "You're ashamed. You hid like a coward, you helped him ain all the spells that killed so many people … you didn't deserve the award."

"No, I did not."

No defense, not justification. Dumbledore was so resigned to his own guilt, it made her sad for the man. Not enough to forgive him for his secrets, not enough to think him not a coward, but she pitied him for his cowardice.

"What happened to your Horcrux?" Hermione asked. "Was it destroyed?"

From above, the delicate phoenix song warbled from the fiery bird who flew through the open skylight. It warbled, keeping its distance as its own healing magic swept over the two of them until it calmed their hearts. Then, finally, it landed on Dumbledore's armrest, cooing against his beard.

"Fawkes, you enjoy dramatic timing as much as myself," Dumbledore chuckled half-heartedly at the bird. "Miss Granger, Fawkes himself was once my Horcrux."

There was no way to surpress her surprise. A gasp escaped her before she could restrain it, and she leaned for to examine the bird. It still looked exactly like the images in the books, no feathr different.

"It was the perfect plan," Dumbledore said sadly. "An immortal creature, not even destroyed by those thins which destroy Horcruxes. I would have never died but remained alive forever. Yet, it was an abomination to nature.

"Fawkes has forgiven me for what I put him through, though I never deserved it," Dumbledore stroked his bird so fondly, Hermione felt she was intruding a moment between the closest of friends. "Ihad turned him into the opposite of what he was meant to be, and yet at my healing him he stayed my familiar unconditionally. He has been my friend even through all these lonely years."

"I don't feel anything dark from him," Hermione murmured. "In fact, he feels a lot like me. How … ?"

That earned a smile. "A phoenix regenerates, Miss Granger. But, no, the vessels don't suffer from after-effects once the soul is returned. I have not felt darkness within Fawkes since the day I released him."

"You can feel the dark magic too?" she probed. Dumbledore nodded. "Because of your relationship with this magic?" Another nod.

"So, you've known since the first moment you met Harry what he was," Hermione murmured, her voice sharp. "You knew from everything, from his dreams, his Parseltongue … and you've hidden this all from everyone. Including Severus."

Only a nod.

"Why? Is there a way to save him?" Hermione hoped, beyond hope. "You have more information about this than nearly anyone alive, you've known about this for years, you HAVE to have found a loophole!"

"There is no loophole."

His face looked old and tired. His magic rang with true regret, true mourning for what he was going to do.

"Harry must die. If at all possible as the last Horcrux, and by Tom's own hand. It must be at the last possible moment."

"Why?!" Hermione demanded, her voice louder once again. "To keep everyone fighting without him? To fulfill the stupid prophecy?!"

"Yes."

Hermione smacked her hands on the desk angrily. "Then Harry should know! You shouldn't hide these things from him! You know he'd die for this, you know he wouldn't blame you, he trusts you! And you're letting him go on thinking he's insane!"

"He cannot know," his voice become authouratative. "His mind is not closed to Tom's, and we know tht Tom is exploring their connection now. If he were to know, it could compromise everything. Tom would no longer ask to have him killed, rather he'd have him captured somewhere no one could ever find him.

"You must never tell him."

Hermione felt like she was going to cry. Like everything was going wrong and nothing could change it. Harry ….

"I hope you know I can't follow you from now on, never."

"I know."

"And I will protect Harry with everything I have in me."

"I'm aware."

"And Severus, do I tell him?"

Dumbledore seemed despondent. "It'd be to much to ask you not to, wouldn't it?"

She nodded.

With a sigh, Dumbledore nodded slightly. "I ask you do so with utmost security, but Severus can be trusted not to let that information fall on the wrong ears. I only ask that You tell me before you do so."

"Fine."


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

* * *

House elf births were …. Ugh, Hermione refused to think about it. Those tiny, skinny bodies were not good for delivering babies. Or maybe no bodies were. There was tearing, blood, and the house-elves are even born blind. Their unseeing eyes are disconcerting. Pale blue when they even do open, but mostly they just keep their eyes closed.

Yet … The look on Csara's face as she cooed her little wrinkly bundle was enough to make her forget that. Csara was so happy.

It had been two days since she last saw Severus. He had never returned from Christmas at the Malfoys, only letting her know with a little ' _Will not return until New Years'_ sent through their necklaces. Every day she hid the newly-discovered information from his was tense, but she knew this was something she had to tell him in person.

Meanwhile, his absence sent her magic into a constant frenzy as it spread and reached for him. There was nothing she could do, and no pains through her magic indicating she should worry, so she tried to put it out of mind by keeping herself busy. She personally helped her she-elves deliver Csara's baby, took Moody aside for some revision in her Defense, and took a rubbing of her rune stone to Bill so he could check her ward-work for her.

That had been nerve-wracking, she recalled. Bill had bombarded her with questions she wasn't sure it was safe answering, like which ley line it ran across, what stones the house was primarily made out of, how big the land was, and – when she mentioned extending it into a beach – the type of water and how far it spanned her property. Still, she answered honestly, just hoping to improve the basic wards she'd put on the place. The Fidelius was safe, yes, but there were others that she could place both for safety and for convenience.

A tracking ward for people in the house, an identification perimeter … Bill tried to get her to place some booby traps in her wards, but Hermione deferred those in favour of one he'd found in an Egyptian crypt that constantly led trespassers in the wrong direction. Like anti-muggle wards, except rather than just hiding it from view it redirected them away from the target. And, of course, worked on wizards and witches too.

Even with all that, she needed more magically-draining work. Without Severus nearby, her magic was flitting around anxiously and growing slightly uncomfortable. She couldn't really describe it, besides saying her magic had developed a severe case o separation anxiety. While Hermione simply missed Severus, her magic was desperate for him. It clung to every person who entered the Black home (excluding Dumbledore, of course) but their magic was too incompatible and just sent her own spiralling away. She'd had to resort to begging them to let her go to Muggle London, because only around muggles could she release some of her pent-up anxiety.

And yet, still, her magic was still yearning for Severus. Hermione needed help, especially if she was going to be without him for any longer. She sent a letter through Dumbledore for help. Hermione could only hope she could help.

* * *

"Mrs. Oswin!" Hermione called, brushing the soot from her robes. "Are you there?"

"We're in the kitchen!"

It was nice feeling the magic around her. She'd obviously gotten better at opening to the sensation, because this time the nudge of Mrs. Oswin's magic was gone, replaced with a seamless merging and a wonderful glowing feeling. Hermione sighed in relief, relishing in the peace. For the first time in about a week, her magic was releasing and running through her again. It was alright again.

Mrs. Oswin was sat at the table with a cup of tea while Mr. Oswin was cooking at the stove. Hermione had never met him before, but from the sappy smile on Mrs. Oswin's face, she loved the sight of the man much like she felt about Severus.

"Hermione, this is my official-unofficial husband, George Oswin," Mrs. Oswin called her introduction from her place at the stove. "George, make Hermione feel welcome."

"Of course, Hanna," he said amiably, with a crooked grin shot in Hermione's direction. "Anything you say, dear."

"There'll be no pudding with that attitude!" was called back.

Hermione giggled. "You guys are adorable."

"Come sit next to this adorable old man, then," George winked. "How are you doing, Miss Hermione?"

"Surprisingly well," she smiled genuinely. "What about you? Do you live here?"

George looked surprised, then laughed. "Of course I do! What has my lady been telling you?"

"That was _not_ me!" Mrs. Oswin denied from the stove, giving a smile. "She assumed that on her own."

Hermione flushed. "It's just … well, I didn't see you last time I was here."

"Hannah thought you needed some one-on-one time," George explained softly. "Your Professors seemed, well, anxious for you. We wanted you to have time to get the answers you wanted, not worrying about getting to know two new people."

She smiled kindly at the man. "That was very kind of you, sir. And thank you for inviting me back."

"We didn't know if you'd show up alone, actually," George expressed kindly, but probingly. Hermione flinched. "Are you alright leaving your link-wizard alone?"

It was a sore spot for Hermione, the thought of Severus. Her messages through the protean-charmed necklace were answered simply by ' _With the Dark Lord'_ and nothing else. Hermione had become an antsy, magical ball of excess energy. Being here helped, definitely, because she could feel her energy being absorbed by the fellow link-with. But still, her worry and need for Severus were only growing by the day.

"He-er, well … "Hermione took a breath, readjusting her Occlumency shields once again to cover Severus. "My, erm, mate is gone for the break, actually. I haven't seen him since Christmas morning."

Mrs. Oswin stopped at the stove, and George gave Hermione a sad smile. "I'm sorry. It must be difficult for him to be away so long."

Hermione smiled sadly. "It's why I'm here, actually."

"It wasn't his choice, was it?" Mrs. Oswin asked from the stove. "He does know what being away from us does?"

She shook her head sadly. "I haven't been away from him this long before. _I_ didn't know about it until now, so I know he has zero clue. He really has no choice with where he is, regardless, but I'm sure he'd be here if he knew I needed him."

Mrs. Oswin smiled. "Of course he would. Well, it's good of you to come here."

"I feel better just being here," she assured her predecessor. "I-I'm kind of worried about when I leave, though."

They nodded understandingly.

"Well, the best thing you can do is find a cause," Mrs. Oswin told her. "There haven't really been any disasters in the UK this year, but finding people to help is the best way to use that energy. I would have thought You-Know-Who would keep you busy."

Hermione flushed. "He hasn't attacked recently. It's been quiet. I've been taking watch shifts, but that doesn't use magic."

"What about the hospital?" Mrs. Oswin suggested. "Our magic is unsuitable for psychological problems and genetic abnormalities, but for magical damage, even physical, you could help there. I could teach you a couple of spells I found useful in the last war."

"Thank you," Hermione coughed awkwardly. She couldn't reveal her powers, and healing people would raise questions for sure. She couldn't do that yet.

She changed topics by reaching into her bag. "I-I know its past Christmas, but I wanted to get you guys something. You know, to thank you for inviting me and for all the help, and, well, I had no idea what you needed, but I made you something."

She gave the clearly not-professionally wrapped gift to Mr. Oswin, since he was closest, but Mrs. Oswin came over and encompassed her in a hug.

"That's so thoughtful of you," she thanked before it was even opened. "It's been so long since I've had a surprise here. I wonder what you made!"

Mr. Oswin opened the ends of the package with a dramatic flair, earning giggles from both of the watching women, before finally revealing the soft center of the wrapping. Hermione became instantly nervous.

"It-It's nothing much," Hermione stuttered out. "I-I made some clothes last year and I got good at making, well, things that are straight and flat. I really couldn't do hats or socks, as much. But I used an alpaca wool blend because I wasn't sure about allergies … it's really soft, so it can just be a living room blanket or something, but you don't have to use it."

Hermione had just knitted a wool blanket for them, a simple but reasonably-sized throw in grey. She had to get a lot of Alpaca wool yarn, but at least with magic it hadn't taken too much time from her crafting. The magic use had kept her from going too haywire, and she only had to start and end the thing.

"Oh, it's beautiful dear," Mrs. Oswin hugged her again, their magics basically kissing. "It will make a nice living room throw. It's very considerate of you."

* * *

It had been a nice visit. They'd eaten a nice, farm-like meal and then dessert, gathered in the main room to play card games, and laughed together about shared experiences with their lovers with George as the butt of most of them. Hermione found herself identifying with the pure adoration the couple shared for each other, and silently hoped she and Severus became this kind of lovely, old couple.

When she got home, though, Ron was sitting in the hallway in wait. One look at his face said it all.

"What happened to Harry?" Hermione asked immediately. Her magic swept through the house, hunting for the boy's magical signature. It seized and contracted when it came into contact with his dark magic parasite. "He's angry again, isn't he?"

Ron nodded furiously. "Order meeting earlier, and Harry wasn't allowed in. He tried to keep his head, to be fair, but he couldn't _not_ get angry. He asked us to get you the moment you came home, which made Ginny go off on him, making him go off on her, making me go off on him for yelling at my sister. It's a right mess. He's in his room."

Hermione glanced upwards, then back at Ron for permission to go ahead. Regardless of Harry needing her, Ron was his friend and the rejection must have hurt him. While Harry knew of her powers out of necessity, Ron was still in the dark and between that and Harry's angry distance, Hermione knew he was having a hard time.

Ron gave her a tense nod. "Just … call me when he's calmed down, 'kay?"

"Maybe next time you can do broom maintenance together," Hermione offered quietly. "That calms him down."

That was the right thing to say. It was clear that he felt helpless, so even giving him that half-hopeful suggestion raised Ron's spirits. With an extra nudge from her magic, the feeling settled in her friend and she was able to leave him knowing he was emotionally stable for the time-being.

Harry's room was on the top floor of Grimmauld place, next to Sirius'; they were set up in the family quarters. Sirius had set up the Master bedroom for Harry, not wanting to go in there himself because of his parents but supremely pleased to have Harry take the largest room after learning about the cupboard under the stairs. Harry had immediately taken a bed from another room and added it so Ron could stay with him as well.

"Harry?" She knocked on the door, but apparently it wasn't necessary. At the sound of her voice, Harry had apparently run for the door and thrown it wide open in his desperation for her help. "Oh, Harry."

He looked terrible. Red-rimmed eyes that were full of so much pain and a tense slouch in his shoulders that screamed of a wounded animal ready to defend itself told of just how terrible he felt. As if she were the very air itself, he reached for her and pulled her into a hug.

"I knew, I knew it was Voldemort," Harry croaked. "It didn't matter. I couldn't stop it!"

There were no more words needed. Hermione kicked the door shut behind her and returned his hug. She knew enough about his emotional state to know to remain perfectly stationary in his arms, keeping the agitation from setting in from what she was sure would follow irritating the oversensitive skin that came with anxiety, and also that he still needed her hug.

Her magic wanted to protect Harry from the magic within him, but couldn't separate them. Instead, it offered itself to the scarred boy who was her friend. He was clearly desperate because he didn't even fight it. He accepted her magical comfort like it was food to his starving soul. She felt his tears trickle into her hair and hugged him all the more firmly because of it.

"Ron could tell you tried, Harry," Hermione told him comfortingly. "Even if you sometimes lose it with people, they know it's not you, not what you want. You did so well, Harry. Really. You are so strong to be the kind, wonderful friend you are with the hell going on in your head."

With that piece of comfort, Hermione moved their embrace to the bed. It was a place of safety for Harry, she knew, and he needed that. Placing the blanket over the both of them, Hermione continued to feed Harry comfort and reassurance, descriptions of the very real enemy she could feel in his magic, and promises that she would do her best to be there for him until they could figure out how to remove it.

"I have some books on Occlumency," Hermione said softly, "if you want to read them. They're how I learned. If you just read them and then practice, I'm sure this will get better."

"How could it help?" Harry rasped.

She carded her fingers through his hair soothingly. "It's all about controlling your thoughts. These angry thoughts, the ones you hate, are included. It includes thoughts that aren't yours, or thoughts that might trigger them. It's a weapon to fight with."

Harry's anxiety had tired him physically. When he was finally calm, and the darkness had returned to its hiding place in his mind, his breathing evened out and Hermione knew he'd fallen into a much needed slumber. Using her magic to carefully extract herself, she left Harry and returned to the others who were waiting for her downstairs.

Ginny and Ron were sat in the drawing room and looked at her when she entered. Ginny, particularly, seemed desperate for some sort of news.

"He's asleep," Hermione told them.

"Thank goodness," Ron sagged into the cushions. "You got him to calm down?"

"I did."

A lick of silence, then Ginny prodded, "And?"

"And, what?" Hermione prodded.

"Why did he ask for _you_ , specifically?" Ginny folded her arms. "We could have helped him just as much if he wanted us to."

"Gin!" Ron barked.

Hermione waved off his defense of her. "Ginny, don't you think Harry feels bad about what's happening? Especially with what happened to your dad … maybe he wanted me because I don't remind him of the reason he's so worried in the first place." That was a stretch. "He's like a brother to me, Ginny, and I'm like a sister to him. There's no pressure when I'm there." That was trued.

Ginny softened just a bit. "You're right, sorry. But … what is going on with him? He's just so …angry!"

"You already know," Hermione pointed out, "I don't need to tell you."

"He's not being possessed," Ginny said fiercely. "I'd know if he was."

Ron and Hermione both flinched at that. Hermione, because of the reminder of the violent sensation of petrification, and Ron, because he'd neglected his little sister to the point where he hadn't noticed her own possession. There was such a fierce expression on Ginny's face, like she'd never let Harry get that way and anyone who thought otherwise would get a whooping. Hermione appreciated it.

"I don't think he's possessed, necessarily," Hermione explained hesitantly. "It's more like … he could be. Like … I don't know if Harry really _is_ in danger of being possessed, but the kind of magic at play here is really strong, and his magic's fighting it. I don't want to know what will happen if Harry gets any worse. If the magic gets any stronger, or Harry any weaker…"

Hermione left that thought hanging in the air. It wasn't that she necessarily believed Harry could become truly possessed by Voldemort, not completely. Harry would always be there, and she didn't believe anything could change that. But it could become too much for him, and the she did believe that the moment he stopped fighting he could very well get lost to it. Like the Cruciatus, there could come a breaking point. A point where she, herself, could not heal him.

Neville popped into her mind, their visit with him and his parents the day after the session ended and they picked up Arthur. There was no magical residue from the Cruciatus on his parents, but they were still gone. Vacant. Her powers couldn't fix the mind.

No, some thing weren't technically caused by magic. Just pain.

"If it's that bad, why isn't Dumbledore doing something, then?" Ron asserted. "He has to know something's goin' on with Harry."

"He does," Hermione admitted. "It's why he's ordered Professor Snape to teach him Occlumency. It may be Harry's best chance at blocking whatever it is that's influencing him."

Ginny snorted. "Yeah, that'll be a big help, won't it? Harry already told us about his special lesson with Snape. The bat's just torturing him, Harry told us that much."

"Ginny," she sighed, "you know that's not fair. Severus may not be the most likeable person sometimes, but he's on our side. He would never do that to Harry."

Ron tried to interject, but Hermione just raised her hands to silence him. She wasn't going to listen to them bad-mouth Severus.

"Look, I'm worried too," Hermione tried to soothe them. "But we have to trust each other."

At that moment a sharp heat burned a circle into her ribs. Her hand immediately brought the necklace out from her jumper so she could see the message from Severus.

' _Aurors to Azkaban for midnight. Moody, Tonks, Kings.'_

Hermine's blood ran cold. "Ron, who's here at Headquarters?"

"Just Sirius and the family," he replied instantly. "Oh, and Tonks's been staying here too, since Remus, er, you know. Why?"

"Sorry guys, but this is important," Hermione turned and ran from the room. "Tonks!

She ran around, trying to find the Metamorphmagus. It was taking too long. She huffed in frustration, trying to think. "Csara!"

Csara popped out of thin air with her baby firmly swaddled on her back and smiled. "Yes, Mistress?"

"Where is Tonks?" Hermione asked quickly, knowing there was no time.

She was led to the top floor, to the room Remus shared with Sirius whenever he stayed;. Sirius and her were playing cards when she violently hurled herself into the room,

"Tonks, we need the aurors!" Hermione said first. Tonks' drab brown hair, the colour of her sadness, turned purple at the tips at her shriek. "The Death Eaters are going to try for Azkaban tonight!"


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

* * *

The Order had gathered in the kitchen and were now sending messages through patronus and the floo. Dumbledore himself had arrived and was trying to organize things on his end, things that no one else apparently could do. Another reminder that he trusted no one in his life was not needed by the link witch, but she couldn't complain. Hermione was useless, just sitting there at the kitchen table. They were hurrying around, sending messages through various objects and the floo and trying to coordinate, and she was just useless.

Sirius would stay behind with the kids. There was an unspoken agreement that no one wanted to see him revert to when he'd first escaped Azkaban, but there was also the fact that Amelia Bones was going to be sending in the aurors once the fight was underway. Harry wouldn't forgive anyone if Sirius were captured.

The other big issue was that they couldn't get into Azkaban without apparating or flying. Flying would be tactical suicide, as they would be seen coming and going. What they decided was to apparate the second the wards were torn down by the Death Eaters. It would give the Dark Lord an unfair head start on releasing the inmates, and the Dementors would already be rallied, but hopefully it would be a surprise attack to counteract their advantage.

When everything was prepared, they went pair by pair to a set location outside the Fidelius charm, prepared to apparate to Azkaban the moment the received word from one of the Aurors.

"We need a rear guard for this operation," Moody said gruffly to the group. "The rear guard will cast the patronuses and maintain them. Molly, Kingsley, Tonks, are you all still confident with your charms? Rear guard. Any other volunteers?"

Dumbledore coughed politely. "Miss Granger, I believe, is capable."

Moody's forbidding eye swivelled to her. "Finally learnt it, Granger?"

"Harry taught me," she admitted sheepishly. "Sorry, sir."

He smirked. "Rear guard then. Four should be enough for now, but the rest of you play it by ear. If you see one of them going down, or failing, you step in best you can. No one can fight properly with those creatures about. Now, front guard, we'll be apparating to the roof of Azkaban, shaped … "

While Moody went on about the strategy, Dumbledore moved closer to her and leaned in for a whispered conversation. She flinched slightly but couldn't do anything more in front of the order even if she'd wanted to.

"Are you going to tell me I don't belong here?" she said lowly.

"We will keep your removal from the Order a secret for now, Miss Granger," Dumbledore murmured. "I am merely warning you to remain behind for this battle. Keep to the rear guard and do not get caught I the fighting. It is imperative that Tom not get further opportunities to observe your abilities."

Hermione nodded slowly. "If I can, I will. But you know better than I do that my magic _will_ interfere if someone's going to die. Even if I can't stop it."

The altercation with Voldemort's pet snake and Mr. Weasley was still a prominent memory. No matter that she couldn't save him, her magic had still been anxious with him at death's door. It was the same feeling her magic got around death magic, but less painful.

Dumbledore looked sadly upon the young girl. The confidence she'd had when she had looked to him for guidance was replaced with doubt and uncertainty. He was right about the past. It was much like dreams; they were both dangerous and subjective, and both had the potential to ruin any good thing. Yet he also knew that none of this was undeserved. If it were at all possible, hopefully, this affair could lead to some peace for once. Someone knew his secret, and his confession had lightened his soul ever so slightly.

"Voldemort'll be dropping the wards, guaranteed," Alastor told them gruffly. "Those who've been to Azkaban before will be able to apparate. Everyone else will need to side-along, so pair up!"

Dumbledore stepped forward. "Miss Granger, if you will allow me?"

It relieved the old man that she accepted his offer. It was likely that she was distracted by the impending battle. Still, he stuck close to her side while they awaited for the signal from Amelia Bones.

Hermione was reviewing her happy thoughts. She'd been told by Harry that the Patronus was the hardest to cast when in the presence of a Dementor, and yet that was the situation she was in. She had to remember, it was HOPE, not happiness. Her hopes had changed a little. Instead of just Severus free after the war and with her, it had turned to marrying the man like he had promised. Instead of Harry happy and scarless, if was just him alive. Although, she wasn't sure yet if it was better to avoid thinking of him at all because of the newer developments. It might bring the feeling of hopelessness that such thoughts brought.

Tonks suddenly jumped though, landing on her bum. Funny as it was, there was no compassion from Moody. He huffed gruffly and barked at the young auror.

"Tonks! Word from Bones?" he demanded.

"Oh, yeah!" she looked at her wrist where the protean charm was held like a watch. "Wards are down! Time to go!"

Just like that, everyone was partnered up and disapparating to Azkaban. A weathered old hand presented itself to her. "Miss Granger?"

She accepted it warily. Then, with a tug and a pull, Hermione was pulled through the air and popped into existence on the torrential isle that is Azkaban. There was just one thing …. The pain of being near a Horcrux seemed miniscule now that she was in the presence of a legion of Dementors.

The Dementors were swarming the Order members. Cold air and black trailing cloaks, putrid skeletal hands. Their magic was powerful, very powerful, and it brushed along hers like a field around them that extended at least 30 feet from their persons.

This, however, was not a physical pain that came from their magic, not like the Horcruxes. This was pain through the feelings that were exposed through their magic. Her own magic could often feel the pain others were going through, but normally it was muffled by her own magic or their lack of external magics. But the inherent magic around the Dementors was undiluted and didn't simply convey feelings. Their feelings were memories, as they had none of their own. Memories of everything they'd ever sucked magic from, every dark piece that caused magic to writhe out of control by any margin.

She screamed. A sustained, uncontrollable, blood-curling scream as she struggled to take in the magnitude of memories her magic was absorbing. Murders, psychotic sprees, abuse, assault …. Then, at the end of the tunnel, sustained memories of their development. Each of the dementors seemed to have one person that they remembered more than any other, and all of them were children. Horribly sad, horribly mistreated children.

"Miss Granger!" Dumbledore was defending her and keeping the Death Eaters away from the immobile form. "Miss Granger!"

Fighting was going on around her and many Order members were distracted by her screams, but she was unseeing. Millions of memories were flooding through her head, too many. And yet, one thought remained above the rest. Hunger.

Without another thought, she ran. Not from the Dementors, but right into the prison. She needed someplace she wouldn't be seen. Someplace she could be who she was without ANY Death Eaters or Order Members. It wasn't even a logical thought, but something her magic knew she needed and was compelling her to do even as every new magical brush from the Dementors was crippling her and slowing her progress through the halls.

Every place she tried seemed to have some kind of fight, or some rushing mad Death Eaters. She ran through them all, protected by her magic. Finally, finally, there were a group of cells completely unoccupied. It seemed all the cells had been blown open and their residents gone. No one around to see her, she ran into one of the destroyed cells and fell to the ground.

Her hands grounded her into the stone and the magic coursed up through her arms. She kicked off her shoes, desperately getting all the magic she could from the earth and stone roughly scratching her skin. When her magic started recharging, started calming her more, she suddenly realized -

"Dementors … they're starved Obscurials," Hermione breathed in shock, her mind terrified at the implications. It meant that Dementors weren't the unkillable creatures everyone through they were, and they had a life-span like everyone else. They were born of magic within children who suffered and refused to expend their powers because of some deep psychological, painful block that let the obscurial feed on the growing power in their small powers. But they fed too much, killing their hosts. From there, they were called kind to kind, finding other obscurials' signature and following them only to find Dementors. The next step in their cycle. Without a form, their magic could easily be taken by other Dementors so they used it to keep some kind of form to contain it.

So, they became what everyone came to know as Dementors. They sucked on the same feelings that fed them in their obscurus form, the darkest of feelings. They needed that and magic to survive. That's why Dementors only willingly went for wizards, why they agreed to guard Azkaban – food supply. How … how could you fight them? More than just repelling them?

Hermione didn't have an answer, but her magic distracted her from those thoughts with a a shift in its purpose. It _had_ been healing herm renewing her, but now it was doing even more. It was instinctual, the way it was building in her body. Finally, just as her body started screaming from the build up of magic, her body seemed to split at the seams and release all the magic in a massive wave around her.

Hermione feel to the ground, shivering, but her mind wasn't in her body. It was with the magical wave shed released.

Her magic moved outwards of her in a massive circle, going through everyone in the entirety of Azkaban. She could see the Death Eaters shudder from their wrists, she could see the Order members confused. But the biggest change was her magic was deliberately moving downwards and back to the earth. It attacked, grabbing the magic of the Dementors and neautralizing it before dragging it down into the earth. The Dementors themselves seemed to lost form, unable to sustain themselves any longer and unable to take the magic from others to the same extent they began losing their form and becoming more and more obscured before, finally …. Poof! One by one, they turned into peoples' worst fears.

The final step in the Dementor life-cycle. The Boggart.

Until this second, Hermione had never heard of anyone connecting the three creatures: the Obscurials, the Dementors, and the Boggarts. But the facts didn't lie. The Dementors were turning into Boggarts, right in front of everyone. Everything from snakes to other Death Eaters, from giant crocodiles to werewolves were all now part of the playing field of this battle, but indiscriminate as to their pray. They were all hungry for that angry, fearful magic, but at least they couldn't prey on memories anymore, could no longer take souls.

Hermione smiled briefly. At least everyone … was … was okay…

The wave reached the edges of the island set itself up as a barrier, turning all the approaching Dementors into boggarts themselves before Hermione collapsed into a deep sleep. Even in her catatonic state the magic stayed active and alive though, keeping the barrier in place.

* * *

"What the hell?" Severus cut down his opponent and turned to find various Death Eaters facing new, strange opponents. A wave of magic flew through him, the same magic he'd been craving for weeks. _Hermione …_

The Dementor in the edge of his vision shrieked and Severus watched as it lost its horrifying form and started swirling randomly until, finally, it formed into a hideous half-wolf monster, a _werewolf_. It howled loudly, the very sound penetrating his bones before it charged towards him.

His jaw clenched. It was terrifying, but he couldn't focus on it. For some reason, the Dementor had turned into a boggart and if anyone were paying attention to him now and heard what the ex-Dementor was saying he'd be compromised. He gritted his teeth and turned his wand to the ginger woman. "Riddikulus."

The werewolf yipped into the air as it shrank down, but before it could reach him it had turned into a tiny, miniature dog that began chasing his own tail. He let himself have a moment to clear his thoughts and enjoy the scene before banishing the boggart who-knows-where with a hidden smirk.

His smirk didn't last long, though. He was back in the fray and doing exactly what was expected of him; fire curses, avadas, all kinds of dark magic finding its way from his wand and hopefully missing their targets. Whether they hit, however, didn't matter. With every dark curse, every wicked spell, he could feel the tar-like feeling on his magic. The sense of dark security that coated him. It dampened his feelings, his very soul with its layer of filth, and it made it easier to cast every time. Yet he knew … he knew it was making him a darker man. It would take a full day for his magic to expel the evil and it was best faced in isolation. He had avoided fights since his binding to Hermione, but he could only hope he would not be required to return to the Order tonight; she would feel this on him and it would disgust her.

The battlefield was a mess. All formations, sides, strategy had been thrown out the highest window when the Dementors had become Boggarts. Severus normally hugged the edges of the battlefield, catching the runners and keeping the battle contained within his field of vision. As he moved, he could see it all. The lines had broken with Death Eaters running from giants, jesters, even mother-in-laws. Mundungus Fletcher had somehow been convinced to show up for the duel and was being chased by a terrifying, talking doll. Nobody was focusing on the real fight anymore.

From the back of the Order's side, Dumbledore rose and started to cut through the chaos. Snape moved even further from the center of the conflict and focused on downing the opponents along the edges of the roof. He banished Order members, flung them from the roof and into the sea, anything he could to prove himself hostile while giving them every opportunity to save themselves while Dumbledore rushed to the Death Eaters' side where they were blowing cell by cell through the prison.

 _Where was the Dark Lord?_ Severus wondered, observing the battle. He had been there with them leading the crusade, but about the time the Dementors had shifted he had disappeared from the fight. The Death Eaters were losing morale quickly when they realized they would fight the feared Headmaster without the aid of the one man they believed was better than him. Many scattered in the face of him, some tried to gang up on him, but none could deter his assault.

As a signal from hell, every Death Eater wrist started to burn and they all knew the fight was over. Several hissed in anger as their rising bloodlust was diverted, others disappeared immediately in complete acceptance of their fear.

The plan for him at this point should have been simple – return with the Death Eaters, then he would be permitted to return to the Order to check in. but when he tried to apparate out of the battleground prison, he was slammed with a large amount of Hermione's magic and kept firmly within the confined of her golden protection.

More Death Eaters were leaving and Order members were now converging on him. He had only one option. With a wave of his wand, his face was unmasked for the Order members to see.

"Snape!" Tonks roared at him. "You threw Bones of the roof!"

"Oh, did I?" He must have been distracted, not to have noticed exactly who he was cutting through. "Apologies."

"Severus," Dumbledore approached from behind, "what are you still doing here?"

Severus came up with plausible explanation. "My apprentice is here, is she not? She must be harmed, because I am unable to leave."

He saw on the Headmaster's face a look of sadness at the mention of Hermione, mixed with some other emotion. He seemed reticence to look for her, to mention her.

"Did anyone see Granger?!" Moody called to everyone. Everyone shook their heads simultaneously. "Well? Get looking!"

Snape joined them in the search having one thing they did not; the knowledge and practice in following the girl's magic to wherever she was. It took him down to the first level of the infamous prison, the first level the Death Eaters had lost to the Order when they showed up. Dumbledore was following him at a safe distance, he could sense, but he made no effort to stop him in his search.

Finally, he could see a glow emanating from some cell in the hallway ahead. He ran now, moving quickly to the side of his collapsed love.

"Hermione!" he roared, kneeling next to the girl. The darkness from the spells in his system was still strong, but it took a lesser role as his concern at not knowing exactly how to help the woman who encompassed all his hopes for the future.

Dumbledore came up behind him. "I believe she is conserving energy. What happened to the Dementors probably took much from her, and she still has the perimeter protected. The best thing would be to remove her from this place and return her to Headquarters. That may lower her defenses enough to allow you to leave and return unto your Master."

His fists clenched with his teeth at that remark. The darkness in his system wanted him to attack the old man, but he resisted by pulling the glowing girl into his arms. He only hoped he could resist her long enough to get away from her.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

* * *

She was having a nightmare, something she hadn't had in so long. There was cold, cold darkness around her that was just filled with feelings and faces. Each dementor's first host – the child they had been parasitically attached to – surrounded her and she couldn't move. Her legs were like lead, sluggish and unmoving even as her heart felt overcome by the depression and anxiety in her mind. Every step she took was too much, and she didn't even know where to go. The worst feeling besides the hopelessness of her paralysis was the fact that her heart was racing through her veins and making her want to tear at her own skin in frenzied frustration. Their enemies began to converge on her, all those parents and masters and orphanage workers, the homeless drunks and the merciless slave-masters all were plaguing her. Soldiers in warzones, slave-drivers of old, priests, and even witch-burners made their appearances in her psyche. Horrible, horrible people.

She'd met Voldemort, she'd met the man she considered the worst man in the world. Compared to the men in her mind, though, he was nothing. A blip on the charts, one dot among many, many more. Though they were a dream, every hit they landed felt real. But her brain just couldn't process everything. The villains around her kept switching faces, not able to be in the same space as the others, and her emotions couldn't accept all of the kids at once so it instead was just one overwhelming feeling; anxiety.

In the midst of the sheer panic that the level of anxiety she experienced wrought, there was still a feeling deep within her of peace. The individual memories were terrifying, and the villains induced a sorrow deep within her that seemed boundless in its sheer regret over the human race, but her magic was burning like a light within her and it brought with it other memories from these Dementors, Obscurials, whatever they were. It showed the occasional kindness in each of these lives, brought to her remembrance the good things from her own life and gave her the slightest nudge of reminders that everything she'd seen shouldn't break her. She, Hermione Granger, was not responsible for this. But she at least got to see this, got to understand how these things all came to be. Maybe one day she could save others like them.

Finally, as if that resolution was what she needed, the nightmares all abated until she felt herself waken slowly.

 _Worry_. When she woke up a little bit more, she could clearly feel about four people in her immediate vicinity feeling worried and in her state she couldn't even control her magic enough to restrain it. It reached out to touch everyone around her and soothe the worried magicks.

The _soft,_ everything felt soft while the world worried around her. She must be in bed. But her chest felt heavy … did she not take off her corset to sleep? Slowly, she was beginning to understand what was happening. _Her_ eyes popped open when she realized exactly what had happened that they might be worried about.

"Azkaban, what happened at Azkaban?!" Hermione exclaimed, startling everyone around her as she swiftly sat up slowly. She felt weak – she felt it in her magic and knew she had nearly no power left in her body. It took effort not to shake. "Did they escape? Is everyone okay?"

"Aagh!" Sirius jumped and clutched at his heart. "Don't do that, kitten. My heart can't take that much."

"Hermione!"

She had an armful of worried Harry before she could reply. Her friend was faintly trembling just like her as she held him there, and then Sirius joined in.

They were together in their hold for only moments before the door slammed open violently and like an avenging angel Severus strode through the door, bloody haggard-looking. His breathing was heavy and his eyes wild in desperation and hope.

At the door opening the two men by her bedside had released her and turned to the intruder, only to find someone the pair of them couldn't stand. But Hermione fighting to get out of the bed before either of them could speak, only to be approached swiftly by the very man she was fighting to get to and pushed back into bed.

That hand was all she needed to feel some relief from her aches and weariness.

All the horrible memories in her mind, all of the lack of love and the horrible abuse, the only thing keeping her sane was the perspective her loving yet trying life had brought …. Then Severus there, covered in blood and looking every bit like the abused people of her nightmares … She needed desperately to hold him, heal him, soothe his worried soul. She grabbed his hand like a lifeline.

He glared down at her. "Rest."

Her magic transferred itself without prompt to her bondmate, her lover, her promised future. A breathy sigh of " _Severus"_ exited her as contentment sank back into her soul after the long, cold, nightmares. THe responsibilities of her knowledge still remained heavy on her shoulders, but her heart felt lighter at his presence.

That moment of peace seemed so small before a jolt of pain tore through her and a roar passed through the room.

"HIM?!"

Hermione was incoherent with pain and the roar didn't even register as a surprise in her mind before Snape ripped his hand from hers and stepped back from the bed. It took even longer for her to realize her best friend and brother was faintly trembling in rage, and that Severus had stepped back from the hormonal teenager.

"Get away from her!" Harry screamed. "You-You PERVERT!"

Sirius had gotten up too, but this time put a hand on his godson's shoulder. "Harry, don't-"

"NO!" he ripped his shoulder out of his grip His eyes were dark as his magic, his neck flexing as if it were uncomfortable and his magic flaring. "That's my SISTER!"

Each flare was like a stab to her stomach. Her magic was too weak, too weak to defend her from the worse of the pain but still there enough to set her nerves on fire. This was the worst pain she'd felt from Harry, forcing her to crunch over and tears to leak from her eyes.

"Harry, no, not him," Hermione croaked weakly through the fiendfyre in her veins. "Not him."

Unthinkingly, Harry flew forward and threw the first punch. Snape refused to sidestep and instead put up an arm to take that fist before throwing Harry back into the room. This only made the darkness in him grow more consuming and more dangerous to Hermione. Another stab came, this time right to her heart.

"Harry," Hermione gasped out, in pain, "please, stop."

A look back at her and a flux in his magic told Severus all he needed to know; she was in pain, and it was Potter's fault. His restraint – that very flimsy curtain between him and the dark magic pulsing though his skin – broke quickly and he pounced on the prat, fighting right back against the arrogant child who continued to fling punch after punch at the Potion's Master.

Sirius jumped in, and soon the whole room was involved in a bar fight with flung furniture, shouted cusses, broken fingers and bloody lips. Hermione had long since sunk into her bedding. Her magic and Harry's fought around everything like a magical vortex. She couldn't even interfere, couldn't separate them, while their magics were in such a state of battle.

Hurried thumps came from upstairs and down as Weasleys and Order members all ran to find the source of the commotion. Pairs of leather boots, sneakers, and slippers all sounded from the doorway.

"Stop this now!" It didn't help Harry's anger, but at least the overbearing noise had stopped – that had to mean they weren't scuffling. "I mean it! What do you think you're doing?!"

"He was-"

" _Quiet!"_

It was the voice of Albus Dumbledore, now coming from the doorway. Her magic must be really weak if she couldn't feel him over Harry's boiling and roiling waves.

"Perhaps we should tend to Miss Granger first?" Dumbledore suggested lightly. "Or did you three not notice her posture?"

Footsteps moved and people crowded around her. Harry was calming down a little with the proximity and Dumbledore's censure, but not enough to stop the onslaught of pain. She needed a walk, or twelve. She had a feeling this depletion was something she'd need to recover from.

"What happened here, Granger?" Moody asked gruffly.

Hermione took a stuttering breath, still clenching her fists and crying from the pain of Voldemort's Horcrux radiating through the room. It took her a moment to think of what to say through the haze of fire in her body. "Professor Snape showed concern. Harry got mad. Punched him."

That was all she could do before she sobbingly inhaled her next purchase of air. She wouldn't tell them that Harry had figured out – with very little information at all – that she was in a relationship with Severus. She wouldn't tell them why she was in pain.

"Sir," Hermione moaned, grabbing his attention. His dark, angry eyes met her tearful ones. "Help?"

It thawed the dark wizard in a moment. Forgotten were Harry and Sirius, instead was he and Hermione. He sat by her side and pulled her face up so he could be sure she would look into his eyes, but the contact was enough for her to feel some degree of relief from the pain of the next room as her magic curled around him.

"One to ten."

Hermione blinked as her eyes filled with tears. "Six, now. Seven, before."

Moody stomped his leg. "Seven what?"

"Her pain, you ignorant man," Severus growled over his shoulder. Still, despite his brusque exterior, he was gentle with her and placed his hand over her forehead in the only contact they could get away with innocuously.

"I don't feel like I can leave you yet," Severus huffed, more for the audience than anyone. "I need to return to the Dark Lord, Apprentice; what will it take for you to feel set to rights?"

Hermione tried her magic for a diagnosis, but found it weak in the face of everything she'd done that day. She might be able to recover with a walk, but it would probably take a lot longer and a more prolonged time for it to be returned to her permanently. Worse, still, she was shivering from Harry's magical assault and she was sure her body was going into shock. It felt like she was going to die if Severus let her go.

"Don't go," Hermione whispered.

Severus sighed, a deep, irritated growl. "I must. Do you want me to die?"

Her eyes widened. "NO!"

Dumbledore stepped forward then. "Perhaps, Severus, this could be solved if you simply took Miss Granger with you?"

"What?!" Severus and multiple Order members – Harry included – yelled.

Dumbledore raised his hand placatingly. "It's not as though Tom can keep her, or that he wants to. He was courteous to her when last they met, and any action against her would need to be defended by the Master of the Apprentice. She is safe so long as she is with Severus."

Hermione nodded along, completely understanding, and sent a pleading look to her lover. She tried to convey how much she didn't want him hurt, how much she'd give to stay with him now.

After a moment, he sighed. "Fine. Then I'll need you to pretend to be unconscious, or at the very least only barely lucid, Miss Granger. Can you do that?"

She looked up in hope. "Are you sure?"

"Your magic isn't allowing me to leave without you, and I MUST report back to my master," Severus intoned lowly, his eyes deep and dark. "I see this as the only option."

Hermione understood his silent command and tried to free her magic from Severus then, but with how weak it was and how starved it was for him, nothing could deter it. If he'd been there sooner, she might have been able to release him but with a few weeks of solitude, she was completely unable.

Severus gave her a pointed look at her attempts, clearly asking if it would be possible. She just shook her head.

"I'm too weak," she admitted. "I'll go, but I don't know if I can-"

"I'll be the one protecting you," Severus said firmly. "I am more than capable."

While the other Order members were speaking with Dumbledore, protesting sending a sick girl in front of the resident megalomaniac, Severus slipped his hands underneath her and pulled her into his arms. He remained detached as he stood and inclined his head to the room, mockingly. "Farewell. And do knock some sense into Potter's head, Albus, before I return. He seems to have quite an imagination."

With her depleted forms in his arms, Severus and Hermione exited the Order Headquarters to head toward the park across the street.

Everything was so quiet, the silence before the second storm of the day. Hermione buried her face in his cloak. "Please, don't let him hurt you."

He lowered his head enough to bestow a single, heartfelt kiss on her brow before he apparated them out of existence.

Apparition was a completely magical process and usually Hermione was fine, but with her weakness it was too much for her poor magic and she was dry heaving when they landed. Waves of nausea crested over her and she fought desperately to keep from vomiting over Severus. Worse than the nausea came a painful fire of dark magic, minor in some places around her but so, sooo painful in others. She could feel a horcrux, feel it. And it hurt far more now than it did when she had her magic to protect her. If only she could slip off her shoes and …

"My Lord."

She didn't open her eyes, but she could hear the abrupt silence in the room and feel the dark magic of Voldemort behind her. She was sick, so she was going to go with the nausea and act it.

"Apologies for my tardiness," Severus intoned smoothly. "As you see, there was a … _complication_."

A brief pause, then a snap of his fingers. "Fetch Narcissa. And leave us to go tend to your brethren."

Shuffling, scuffling. The darkness approached and a single, burning hand rested on her head. Her shivers became more pronounced without the need to act.

"What happened to our little friend?" Voldemort asked lowly, the question probably only meant for Severus.

"She was at the prison, fighting with Dumbledore," Severus ground out. "Drained by a dementor when she became separated from the Order. Not kissed, but weak. By contract, I could not leave her side to come to you."

A heavy pause. "Did you see this occur?"

"No, my Lord."

Another silence. Her shudders increased as a voice came to her ear. "Little one, you were not harmed by a single Dementor – of that I'm absolutely certain. What did you do?"

She shook her head. He knew she was awake, but she wasn't going to give an answer.

"Put her down and let Narcissa tend to her," Voldemort allowed finally. "I require your aid in healing our released brethren. They need potions and a practiced hand."

Her body was placed against a hard, cold surface and she opened her eyes slightly to get a last glance at Severus. Voldemort, however, noticed enough to lean into her sights and level his gaze at her.

"And don't you think to leave, my Lady," he threatened coolly, his blood-red eyes glinting maliciously in the candle-light. "I wouldn't be very happy with you. We never finished our conversation, did we? And I'd hate to let this opportunity pass."

Red eyes met amber in a silent battle of wills. His double-lidded and glazed, but with intensity – hers weak and amber, swimming with emotions he would never know. His red eyes dragged down from her and over to Severus intentionally, making her heart nearly stop in her chest. She would stay.

A door opened on the other side of the room and Hermione opened her eyes to see Narcissa's pale face poke through the door. "You need my assistance?"

"Yes," Severus drew away and let the Lady Malfoy through. "Tend to the Lady Aethon while Severus and I head to the guest rooms. She is to be made as comfortable as possible; perhaps with the students?"

"Yes, My Lord," she bowed.

"Farewell, Apprentice."

"Until later, my Lady."

When the door closed and Severus' signature died out further, Hermione let her eyes open fully and to take in the regal blonde to her right. She looked quite old, but also lithe, tall, and elegant. Mrs Malfoy seemed to be taking her in as well, eyes cool and assessing.

"I see nothing obvious wrong with you," her tone was cool and crisp. Not judgemental, just assessing. "What do you need?"

"Time," was her only reply. "I just … need time."

The elder Malfoy woman nodded sharply. "Then would you object spending that time in the company of my son?"

No, Hermione wouldn't mind. Draco had become a friend, an understanding ear. Probably because she'd never been close to Ron – and because Harry was like her brother – but Hermione had never had a friend quite like him. A little rough and as clueless as any guy, but relatable.

She didn't say any of that, but nodded feebly. "That would be alright. But … I don't think I can walk."

"That's what we have magic for," Narcissa informed her, like she was informing a child. She bristled at the underlying connotations, but she was already being lifted in the air and out of the room with Mummy Malfoy. "Draco and his friends are in the family wing, avoiding the … commotion. I trust you will behave yourself; there is no time for any ridiculous drama tonight."

Hermione just mumbled tiredly. There was no energy left in her body, nothing that could even be harnessed to cause the trouble Mrs. Malfoy was thinking she'd invoke.

She'd been tired when she opened her eyes, and now that Severus was out of sight she was even more tired than then. Her blinking was slowing, her body feeling warm and sluggish. The last thing Hermione saw was the staircase.

* * *

" _Graangeer_ ," a voice ghosted over her. " _Graaangeeer._ "

"She needs to _wake. Up!"_ Hermione felt someone shoved her shoulder.

"I'm not getting punished because you are asleep when he comes to check on you, Granger." A deeper voice threatened. When she didn't respond, the voice huffed. "If she's not up in thirty seconds, I say we dump cold water over her head."

"Nooo," she protested. At the threat of cold water, her semi-sleeping mind became fully awake. Still, it took a moment. She groaned and blearily tried to open her eyes. The people around the chaise were nothing more than blobs in her vision. " _Sleeep_."

"How can you sleep here?" A voice was incredulous. "You just … passed out, in the same house as the Dark Lord. In front of _Mother_."

"Mama's boy," the boy next to him muttered, but her attention was on the first speaker.

It took her a second longer to recognize the blonde-haired face in front of her. "Malfoy?"

Once that awareness came to her, so did her surroundings. She was on a soft, green velvet chaise in a lavish sitting room surrounded by four or five pureblood children. Malfoy, Theo Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and a small collection couple of older and younger kids she'd never seen before.

"Finally awake, Granger?" Malfoy smirked down at her, but still he handed her a glass of some pink juice he'd clearly had on hand for her. His eyes seemed slightly too tight to be genuinely happy. "Thought you'd gone into a coma."

Ah, he was worried about her. She felt kind of nice, knowing they had worried about her. She hid her smile by sipping the black currant squash he'd handed her.

Nott huffed and sat on the end of the chaise, by her feet. "Are you alright? Not to push you, but I think the Dark Lord would prefer you to be sitting up when he visits."

The name cast a dark shadow over the room, one Pansy was eager to get rid of.

"But introductions first, yeah?" she clapped her hands together. "Granger, here are the other kids who've been told they're useless."

The group scowled at the young socialite, but she continued. "Yeah, we're basically the babysitting room here. Anyone who's not helping in the healing and such. Here we have the illustrious Merula Snypes, finished her NEWTS and everything. Her parents are with the other escapees, but she doesn't have any healing experience so she was told to stay away."

"I was told to stay with you lot and keep you away," the girl growled.

Malfoy cocked a brow at her. "You know well as us that if you were useful for anything else, you wouldn't be here."

Pansy ignored the pair and moved on. "The Gower twins, Donovan and Desmond. They're fourth years at Durmstrang, but their parents are in the other wing so their uncle sent them over."

The boys looked stoic, but very demure. They were hardly old enough to be any sort of help, but they were apparently living like war orphans for the past fourteen years only to get shoved back into the war with their parents' release. Hermione couldn't imagine what was going through their heads.

Many if the kids in the room were young, born of Death Eaters who hadn't been imprisoned during the last war and just waiting for mummy and daddy Death Eater to finish helping their comrades to go home and sleep. Some were there as children of those detainees, like Snypes, but who couldn't help or hadn't wanted to be here to begin with. Pansy and Nott's parents hadn't been locked up, but they were here to help and offer sanctuary. Pansy mentioned with slight fear in her face that her parents were taking in one of their cousins to live with them after they've healed enough for more travel. Someone she only called ' _that Selwyn man_ '.

There seemed to be an unspoken agreement reached between her and the three Slytherins around her because when Malfoy spoke and said, "Someone's coming," all three of them came and surrounded her. Malfoy sat next her on a chair and held her hand, Pansy actually came and sat behind her and started untangling her hair, and Theo took the glass from her hand and refilled it for her only to return it the moment the door to the room opened.

They had the show ready to perform before she'd even caught on to its necessity.

It was Him. The Dark Lord was accompanied by Lady Malfoy and a raven-haired man whose eyes spoke of murder. He looked familiar …

"You're awake at last," the Dark Lord gave her what he must have thought was a charming smile. "How are you, now?"

Hermione took a quick inventory. Her body felt like it'd been hit with a bus, and her magic was still only a light tingle under her skin as opposed to a bubble that surrounded her. She was still very, _very_ weak, but she was sitting up and talking. And his presence wasn't nearly as hurtful as it had been when she'd first arrived.

"Slowly recovering," she summarized for the nose-less man. "How are your followers?"

His smile turned into a look of fury. "Their conditions need more recovery than yours, my Lady. It will take time."

She felt so wrong when she agreed with the terrorist of the Wizarding World, but she did agree with him right then. Those prisons were medieval and cruel, with no hope for those contained. After spending time with Sirius she had discovered just about all of the prisoners were in the constant presence of those horrid dementors and given nothing to help or fight them off. Anyone would go insane, and he told her he definitely had. To this day, Sirius had no ability to cope with his own emotions because of his time there and the complete lack of coping strategies he'd been able to develop. That prison should be closed.

"If I can help, let me know," Hermione offered softly, with great sympathy. Voldemort quirked a brow at her. "They may not be my allies, but that prison is inhumane; if I can help them recover, I will gladly assist. But … maybe after I feel better."

The provision made Voldemort nod. "You are kind, my Lady."

"Weak."

Her eyes zeroed on the black-haired man as Voldemort's did the same.

"What was that McNair?"

McNair. . . McNair . . . then she remembered. And she was horrified.

Hermione was up in arms in a second. "You're the executioner at the Ministry! You absolute barbarian! How can you kill innocent creatures, innocent house-elves, innocent beings! How can they order you to do that?" The man gave an absolutely foul smile. "And you're smiling about it?!"

That man's job was a blemish on society. He had probably cut off the heads of dozens of house-elves, executed centaurs, mermaids, werewolves that bit someone, anyone the ministry deemed as dangerous but not human enough for Azkaban.

Murderers got Azkaban, but creatures who injured got death. At his hands.

"Gonna do some'ing, girlie?"

Her magic may not be able to attack him, but she tried to stand and attack. Hermione stumbled onto her shaky legs with so much vigour Malfoy had to catch her to keep her from falling to the ground.

"Easy there, Granger," Malfoy huffed and put her back on the chaise by Pansy. "Best not to argue with a Death Eater whilst powerless."

"MacNair! Go see to your cousin!" Voldemort ordered. "Do not show yourself again tonight."

When the executioner left the room, the Dark Lord approached her chaise and shooed her companions away so he could sit by her side. It was strange and informal, but still strangely comfortable. This was the charisma Severus often spoke about, the perfect body language and his addictive attention on your person.

"Forgive me for leaving you so long, my Lady," he apologized. "You found your companions adequate, I hope, in my absence?"

She nodded and saw the tense postures of the Slytherin children relax. "The were good to me. How are your newly-emancipated followers?"

His expression darkened, but Hermione saw him try to reign in the dark magic around him to keep from startling her. His only change was in his eyes and mouth, both becoming mere slits in his already empty face.

"Many have been irreparably damaged," Voldemort told her, his voice promising vengeance. "It will take time for them to function once more."

Hermione head bowed in understanding. "I'm sorry."

"It was before your time, little one," he patted her knee affectionately, making her magic flinch in her skin. "For now, we've done all we can. Time is what remains; time and peace. The worst is over for them – I will ensure it."

That last bit was not for her benefit solely, but also for the occupants of the room. Those with parents or relatives freshly freed from their imprisonment. To show they understood and were grateful, the children in the room bowed properly to their Lord.

"Why do you make them bow?" Hermione tried to sound non-judgemental, but it was difficult. They looked too much like house-elves like that. Subservient. Lesser.

Voldemort chuckled. "It is only the respect those of us with rank deserve, witchling. A pureblood manner. You would as well if you had been raised in their noble households."

With that, he rose from the chaise and nodded to the room. "We have had a trying day. Those who are well have begun to gather in the dining hall for a casual meal. Let us join them and mark this day together." Then, turning, he offered her one of his hands. "May I assist you?"

It took the added assistance of Malfoy on the other side, but Hermione was finally able to stand and walk down the lengthy halls of the Manor to the dining hall. Narcissa seemed to be smiling at the sight of her son on apparent equal footing with the Dark Lord.

A thought occurred to her. "Ummm. . . am I dressed appropriately?"

Hermione was, after all, still in her enchanted leather corset and pants. Both were dusted with the floors of Azkaban, and without the armguards the corset left her feeling a little exposed. It had the barest minimum of sleeves, and only a tanktop underneath. Any sleeves would have gotten in the way of her armguards and made them insecure, but someone had clearly taken off those armguards when she'd been unconscious at Headquarters. She was grateful that they had, but now she felt a little … off-kilter.

"It will be fine," Voldemort dismissed. "It has been far too long of a day to be concerned with such things."

Still, when they entered the dining room, she took a step backwards when all eyes turned to her. Yes, she felt very exposed, and Severus was nowhere to be seen.

"Come, they will not harm you."

Her escort moved her forward, forcing her to make and awkward, clunky step. Everyone in the room was probably laughing or judging her based on her weakness right then, the thought making her blush in mortification. She refused to trip again, and so it was necessary to move with the Dark Lord and Draco until she was led to her seat.

She sank awkwardly into the plush velvet seating and didn't look any of them in the eyes, though she felt them all on her. Without Severus there, without her magic, her confidence seemed gone. Worse, Voldemort sat directly to her left at the head of the table, dark magic pulsing from him.

"How are the others fairing?" Voldemort asked. "Will any of them be well enough to join us?"

Bellatrix leaned forward first. "The others are not as strong as I; they will take some time to recover from Azkaban."

Voldemort gave her a quirked brow but said nothing to her boasting. Bring released months prior had given the witch an advantage, but Hermione had not idea what her recovery had been like.

Voldemort's eyes wandered to the other death eaters, looking for corroboration on the prisoners' condition. While none spoke, their nods seemed to satisfy him.

"Very well," he nodded once to his followers. "Still, today we managed to free many from that place; I think that deserves a small celebration among us. Narcissa, if you would?"

Lady Malfoy was sat prim and proper, but at his remarks she knocked hesitantly against the dining table. It blossomed food directly and Hermione felt a little bad for the elves. Imagine if one of the Death Eaters didn't enjoy their food?

Still, she hadn't eaten since before Azkaban and proceeded to place the first course into her mouth at a rapid rate. It was good, but she was too hungry to savor it well. The rest of the table looked a mix between appalled and amused.

Voldemort was quick to divert the unwanted attention. "Rookwood, any contact about what occurred at Azkaban tonight? Any theories?"

She tried not to show her interest, but her tell-tale pause had his red eyes sliding to her significantly. It became harder to swallow, like he was choking her with his gaze. _He knew_.

"None, my Lord," the reedy man said from the end. "All we know so far is the change seems to be permanent so far; no Dementors have been changed back from Boggarts, but the golden dome that did it disappeared with the Order. It's interesting to us all."

Voldemort's eyes slid away from hers and Hermione could breathe once again. "I expect reports on any developments. Our list of allies has shrunk significantly with the loss."

"How _unfortunate_ ," she muttered under her breath.

He pretended not to hear. "Apprentice Granger, something to add?"

"Nope," she popped the 'p' for emphasis.

He quirked a brow. "It would help us greatly if you told us what your Order did. Severus has failed to give us the information on the matter. He will need to be punished after his work is done."

 _Icy terrain, icy barrier. Still life pictures in the snow._ Hermione had to occlude to prevent the fury with which he filled her. He couldn't harm Severus.

"Dumbledore was confused as well, you know," she told him, seeing his face contort with rage at the name. "He certainly wasn't expecting it. I'm afraid there's no way your spy would have known what happened."

"Yet you do," he commented casually. "I admit you are becoming a rather irritating thorn, Lady Aethon. Impressive, considering your age, but not wise either."

"Well, you've always caused trouble for me," she sassed right back. "Just repaying you for the last few years."

"Be quiet, you insolent-!"

Voldemort cut of Bellatrix immediately with a zap. There was a screech from the Lady Lestrange as he glared at her. "Are you incapable of being polite, Bella? Lady Aethon is a guest."

"She disrespected you, Master!" Bellatrix cried. "The mudblood-AAGH!"

The witch twitched and writhed, falling to the floor and knocking over her food in the process. The rest of the room seemed to be content to watch, while Hermione could feel the pain of the spell echoing through her skin and let out a strangled yelp at the horror before her.

Her yelp seemed to end it, and Voldemort turned back to her with a cruel smile. "Are you concerned, young one?"

Goosebumps rose of her arms in warning and Hermione shook her head, going back to picking at her food. Silence right now was golden to her.

"Do not fear, Apprentice," Voldemort assured her with a chuckle. "It is not a regular occurrence, but I simply cannot abide them being impolite today. We've had our opportunity to fight and it is not now."

"Quite," Lord Malfoy agreed, raising a glass to his Lord. "And a successful fight it was. I believe Bella was simply wondering why Lady Aethon refused to divulge the reason it was not _more_ successful."

Voldemort nodded to Malfoy. "Diplomatic as ever. Still … Dear, would you like to tell us how the Dementors were turned to Boggarts?"

She picked at her plate once more. "As kind as you are for not torturing me, I'm afraid I can't tell you."

"I suppose I'll just have to figure it out on my own," Voldemort sighed dramatically, earning laughs from his followers. "I see why you like her, Draco; mysteries only make a woman twice as intriguing."

Draco looked absolutely panicked, his mouth opening and closing as if he had no idea how to respond. In fairness, neither did she.

"Speechless in her presence too?" Teased one of the Death Eaters down the way. "Might be time to revitalize some of that Malfoy blood, hmm?"

"Umm, no thank you," Hermione put forth delicately, receiving disbelieving looks from all of the Death Eaters at the table. "What? I may be to you the filth of the streets, but I have _standards_."

Everyone at the table laughed and Hermione put her hand to her mouth, mortified. "That's not – I meant he's too YOUNG for me! Merlin, Malfoy, you're a friend but –"

Everyone just kept laughing at her discomfort, but now Malfoy joined in. It _was_ a little funny, she supposed, but it was still at her expense.

The ice had been broken. That first course paved the way for a soup course where they just taunted her with all the presentations she had received at school and who she'd marry, to an entrée where the topic was her relationship with the goblins, to dessert where she had to defend herself from questions about Snape and her wardrobe.

"It's enchanted," she justified quickly. "It will stand up to Level 1 and 2 hexes and Level 1 curses."

"It's entirely too revealing for a young witch," Lord Malfoy interjected cleanly. "Unthinkable that Severus allowed you to wear it."

"Well, that's not rude to say," she snarked in a tone worthy of her lover. "He doesn't _let_ me wear anything! I pick my own clothes like a big girl. And I was fighting, not strolling down the Alley!"

"Respectable witches wear robes to fight," one of the unknown Death Eaters sniffed. She levelled a glare. "Just as the wizards do."

Yes, _respectable_ wizards who killed and tortured. Hermione rolled her eyes in her head and flicked her curls dismissively.

"It's _armor_ ," she emphasized. "Maybe if you had some, you wouldn't have needed to retreat."

It was a low blow, but Draco's petrified face made it completely worth it. He always froze whenever someone was distinctly brash and Gryffindor-esque. Hermione grinned when she saw his father's fork freeze over his plate, hovering for a moment before shook back to movement. A Malfoy trait, then.

"Apologies for the interruption of such … _vibrant_ discourse," came a smooth voice from the doorway. _Severus_. Hermione sighed in relief as he came in, her magic thrumming under her skin. "I've come to inform you that the most urgent brews are cooling or maturing. However, the sheer number of potions needed to properly tend to all those freed will require more supplies. I have used up many of my supplies here, and our brethren will certainly need more restoratives and Dagworth's Dead-Toe Dressing than I was able to make from what was on hand. Provided they need all their fingers and toes, of course."

The cruel tone in that last sentence sent chills down her spine. _Severus …_

"We mustn't have any of my loyal under suspicion buying such things now," Voldemort frowned and turned to the followers. "None of the other estates have an ingredients store that is stocked?"

Potions, apparently, wasn't an art for the very rich. Every pureblood at the table shook their heads and Hermione found herself disconcerted by it. Surely they all must have Potions labs, which meant that they were so unused that they were sitting vacant and dusty in their old houses. Probably the only reason the Malfoys had theirs stocked was because of Professor Snape's friendship.

"Apprentice, are you feeling better?" Severus asked her, out of the blue. Her eyes snapped to his, connecting with his black eyes too quickly.

With eye contact, Hermione knew what he was asking. He wanted to know if they were still unable to be apart. It took a moment for her to test her magic in her system, to feel for Severus and their connected. Her magic was still too weak for such exercise, and unsurprisingly it was still clinging to Severus like a life-preserver. She shook her head, and he ended their eye contact to turn to their Lord.

"I would go and fetch the items myself, but my contract still requires I'm near my Apprentice until she recovers," Voldemort quirked a brow at her—he clearly thought she was sufficiently recovered since she was sitting and debating at the table—and Hermione averted her gaze. "With food and rest for her, perhaps I could do so tomorrow."

"No need, friend," Lucius rose from the table with a deferential nod to the Dark Lord. "I have people who will fetch what we need. You have a list?"

Both men moved from the room without a backwards glance, leaving Hermione with the rest of the less polite Death Eaters. At lease Voldemort would keep them in line, strange as it was to be safe with him.

"Well, Master's orders," the Dark Lord told her. "Clearly you are not yet recovered. If you have finished your dinner then to bed with you, Apprentice. We cannot have you restricting our Potion Master any further can we?"

"No, sir."

"Is there anything else that would help you?" he inquired politely.

Hermione bit her lip. One thing that could help would be getting away from him; her magic was spending itself as quickly as it was regenerating herself with the darkness on Voldemort, but she could hardly say that. The only other was a walk, and if any of the Death Eaters were sent to escort her she wouldn't get a thing from it. But maybe …

"Actually, could I get some fresh air?" Hermione asked, politely as she could. "They say nature is a magic of its own."

He quirked a brow at her word choice. "You cannot go alone, Lady Aethon. In a pureblood household, unmarried women are escorted."

Hermione sighed, but nodded. "Maybe Draco would be kind enough to take me, then?"

Voldemort's eyes turned sharp. "Of course. But only a short while, yes? You mustn't use up your strength."

It was a warning, a promise that if she took too long he would be forced to come for her. Probably ending in her being dragged back by her hair.

With a thankful nod, she turned her gaze to Draco. He was the only one at the table she could trust to close his eyes if she told him to or even to see her glowing if he refused. Malfoy looked relieved by her words and came around immediately to her side of the table and kindly offered an arm to support her.

"I trust you do not need a chaperone?" Voldemort needled, making Malfoy blush. "Then enjoy your little promenade."

Hermione eagerly dragged Draco away from the disturbing situation and into the hall, only stopping when he needed to take control because she had no idea where to go. At that, he'd rolled his eyes and dragged her by the hand around the ground floor of the manor, straight through the lavish glass sunroom, and out into the night.

When they'd finally gotten outside, Hermione turned to Draco. "Is there somewhere that no windows can see?"

"Hiding something, Granger?" Malfoy teased. Regardless, he led her down the side of the manor, close to the walls, until he reached an alcove that formed between one of the towers and the main house. "Will this do?"

"Yes. Now turn around," Hermione twirled her finger, indicating for him to spin.

He rolled his eyes, but obeyed and turned his back to her. "You're not going to do anything, er, _nasty_ to my family home, right?"

"I wish," she laughed. "And no, I'm not. Just stay turned."

When she was convinced he was respecting her wish, Hermione took off her leather boots one by one and, once both feet were fully seated on the ground, let her magic touch the ground beneath her. It was reluctant to leave her body and fought her for a moment until it actually touched the earth. Like a vacuum sucking the air from your lungs, her magic sucked its power from the earth and the very air itself.

Draco's mind was racing with his back turned. Anything could happen when a Gryffindor when silent. Granger was silent behind him, doing _who-knows-what_ and _god-knows-why_. Then the air turned warm, and a shadow appeared at his feet as light erupted behind him. He couldn't help it, he couldn't – what if Granger exploded? She would have thanked him for turning around.

Hermione was too busy feeling the magic beginning to restore itself to open her eyes enough to see Draco Malfoy staring – correction, GAPING – at her glowing form. If she had she might have mocked him for his awestruck expression, or berated him for turning around, or warned him to keep it to himself.

"Merlin's one-eyed trouser snake!"

* * *

His hair was slick with oils and damp with steam as he toiled over the latest batch of Dead-Toe Dressing. Fortunately for him and unfortunately for the house-elves he would not be required to apply the dressing to the black, breakable hands and feet of the ex-inmate Death Eaters because he was required in the lab, preparing all the potions they might need before classes resumed in a few days.

Yet he'd been away from Hermione for more than thirty-six hours now and had only slept the few hours when Lucius had been procuring the necessary ingredients for further brewing. His temper was not at the end of its line, it was holding onto the fraying end as it unravelled.

So when the tell-tale clacking of Lucius' cane signalled an uninvited guest in his domain, his response could only be a scathing growl akin to a rancorous dragon.

"Lucius. GET. OUT."

"Now, now, friend," Lucius crooned, "you should be kinder to the man bringing your salvation."

He focused on the count of his stirs, intent on ignoring him. Until he smelt it … the warm amber and vanilla that belied warmth and love to his lungs that cleansed him through and went straight to his brain. Then the tell-tale sweep of magic up his body as she acknowledged him in return.

"I thought since your Apprentice was feeling on the mend, she might take over your duties while you have a much needed rest," the eldest Malfoy continued. "Your room is still available."

"I'm fine," Severus growled, though with less animosity. He was fine now that Hermione was there. "Apprentice, you haven't forgotten how to properly prepare a cup of minced murtlap tentacles?"

"Pickled or fresh?" her angelic voice came, with a touch of competitiveness. He nearly let the corner of his mouth turn at how good it was to hear.

"Fresh," the Elder Malfoy replied for her. "The murtlaps are in the aquarium, just over there. Although, are there any tentacles left on my murtlaps after last night, Severus?"

"Of course there are," he snarked back. "Apprentice, go."

"Yes, Master."

If that didn't awaken him from his fatigued stupor … That girl would be sickened to know the fantasies he had of her whenever she behaved so submissively. He must have paused too long over his brew because Lucius cleared his throat poignantly. He sighed.

"Yes, Lucius?" he intoned lowly. "Something further to bother me with?"

"I believe I pointed out your need to sleep already, yes?" the patriarch asked rhetorically. "You clearly won't be doing so?"

"Not now," he gruffed.

Lucius tapped his cane thoughtfully. "I'll give you another hour. If you haven't left this to your Apprentice by then, I'll send Mopsy to … encourage … you."

Snape shot him a glare. "I don't need a carer!"

"Your Lord may disagree," came the feminine voice behind them. Hermione was holding a Murtlap and stroking delicately to help it fully unfurl its tentacles for her. She was applying pain potion to the beast's head so she could cut without forcing the creature's suffering but also without compromising the ingredients by slathering the beast in numbing cream or feeding the pain potion to him. At least she had learned that much. "He seems the kind of man to like you more when you're actually functional, sir."

"Impertinent chit."

Lucius didn't mind her words, though, and gave his friend a victorious smile. "As your Apprentice said, Severus. One hour or it'll be a visit from Mopsy."

Lucius left and Hermione's magic washed the room, clearly warding the door. He focused on his stirs. In his frame of mind, he may very well say things in stress or anger that may hurt his lover.

Her words were urgent. "Malfoy knows."

"Lucius knows nothing," Severus shrugged.

"Not him, _Draco_ ," Hermione hissed from the other table. "He doesn't know about you for sure – although apparently all of Slytherin has suspicions – but he knows about my powers."

He focused on matching his Occlumency breathing to his stirs. "Do you trust him?"

"I think so." She was silent and Severus gave her that. A moment of reflection. "He wouldn't tell, not on purpose or to hurt me."

"Good," Severus placed the stirring rod on the table to his right and lowered the temperature on the brew before turning to her. Her teeth worried over her lower lip even as she distracted herself by cutting the tentacles before her. "Contrary to what _Potter_ believes in his narrow-minded view, Draco has his virtues. If he feels you have cultivated his trust or friendship then he is loyal as a Hufflepuff."

With a shake and a shudder her tension released and her shoulders lowered. His reassurance had clearly done its job in alleviating some of her worries.

"Has the Dark Lord spoken with you?" he pressed.

Hermione nodded and relayed the occurrence.

* * *

 _He had called on her just the day after her reveal to Malfoy, making her even more worried. Should Malfoy have told him them she would not be leaving the manor unscathed._

 _To her luck, it seemed he had not. Voldemort had merely wanted to continue their last conversation about the value of muggles and muggleborns, touching briefly on the world he wanted to create around them. Not_ with _them, she had noted. He was presenting them as case by case or like olden-time lepers._

 _"So your plan, as I understand it," Hermione summed up, "is complete takeover of both worlds, government controlled living and breeding for muggles, and a class-based system based solely on magic?"_

 _"And intelligence."_

 _Hermione glared. "You can't control a world you don't understand! You're going to try to suppress them but you know nothing of their innovation, technologies, their very culture! You look at them and see them as lowly peasants to your Lordship, but you don't seem to understand how each and every one of them has a life, a vibrancy that you're going to rip from them along with their identities! You would destroy them! They'll break!"_

 _Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "The strong will survive."_

 _"Everyone is strong,_ Lord Gaunt _," Hermione hissed, "but not everyone has the kind of strength you're looking for."_

 _"Magic is strength," he hissed back. "Those without must be submissive enough to be useful."_

 _The argument went on for ages. Hermione was unwilling to give his any ledge to stand on, and he was determined to bring up every misdemeanour in her life as proof of his own philosophies. How he knew about the Skeeter incident she'd never know, but he had used that incident as well as the centaur-Umbridge chaos as the natural Order finding its way. A stronger, more intelligent witch standing over the other witches in her way._

 _After an hour or two, she needed time away from the man-snake. But she still had another question. "When can I return to the Order?"_

* * *

"His response?" Severus inquired.

She huffed. "'You may leave the moment your Master is ready to go, _of course_.' He said that, since that didn't look imminent, I should join him for a private dinner again tomorrow night. As if he's going to let you leave until he gets what he wants. Yeah, I'm _not_ being held here. Right." She violently grabbed a tentacle to cut it and the murtlap squealed in fright. He wasn't hurt, but Hermione looked stricken. Hands petted its tentacles and she pressed a kiss to the creature's head. "Sorry, sorry love, I know. I scared you. Just a few more, I promise."

Severus snorted. His little lover was too adorable. The itch to pull her into his arms for a kiss made him cross them over his chest to resist. She even flashed him a warm smile to solidify the moment.

"Sooo…" Hermione prompted, earning a look from him. She scoffed. "You're the spy. When can we leave?"

"I might be able to take you back within the next day or so. Perhaps as early as after your dinner with him. The Dark Lord is aware that I took you from under the Headmaster's care and he will not want to compromise anything by keeping you for too long. I could speak with him when he next checks on the progress of our … patients." He hesitated then. "However, I would likely have to return here until term resumed if this were to occur."

He could see her eyes flare and knew that she would not for a moment consider leaving him right then. Her words confirmed it. "No, not a chance. I'll stay."

"And what of Potter?"

Snape was more curious about this than ever. They hadn't had time to discuss the violent reaction of her friend upon her wakening, but something was amiss. He was even more certain of the fact when Hermione seemed to avoid looking him in the eyes.

"He .. he's just protective," she defended him. "If I'm allowed, I should send a letter to him and the Order to let them know I'm okay."

"Does he know about us?" Severus probed further.

She bit her lip, that nervous habit of hers. "I never confirmed it, never said anything. He hasn't confirmed it ... but yes." Quick to defend it, she nearly slipped in cutting the final murtlap tentacle. "But it doesn't matter! I won't tell him, not until this is over. If he asks I'll lie, I'll make sure that nothing in his head can be used to hurt you."

Hermione swished her way back to the mini-aquarium to place the murtlap back into his habitat with her whispered thanks. The tentacles were left on the cutting board to be cut up but she didn't return to her station to begin that and instead came to him. Her legs went either side of his as she planted on his lap.

"Let's not talk about this," Hermione pleaded. "I'll handle Harry."

Severus nodded, but tried to lean away from her. The dark magic in his soul roiled at the contact. "You need to get off my lap."

Her eyes smiled at him. "It's safe right?"

"For now, yes," he said reluctantly. He fought the impulse to move, to move her from his lap and push her away. Her warmth was seeping through his legs and it was odd how uncomfortable it felt to be warm.

But when he confirmed it was safe, she leaned in and gave him a soft, tingling kiss. He fought for a second against the warmth it provided, against the tingling that moved from head to tow and unlocked the pit of dark magic resting in his stomach.

But he couldn't reject her. He couldn't. So he eventually tried to sink into the kiss and found himself being sapped of his strength. Not by her, never by her; the tension in his body – the dark magic, the anger, the fear – it had been keeping him going for the last three days and when it was released he had nothing left keeping him going. All his barriers slipped and his body loosed, warmed, and sank into the chair. But she wasn't done with him. She kissed his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids … she didn't pepper them, rather they were trailed slowly and deliberately over him. He was being savored, being drowned in warmth and love from his little witch.

"I've barely seen you," she murmured against his neck. It was clear that was her position for the next few minutes and he would not move her. "I needed this. Never leave me for this long again, _please._

"I missed you."

And that was his heart. He placed his head on her shoulder and breathed her in, crushing her to his chest. "I missed you as well."

No other words were needed. They sat there, wrapped in each other, just savouring each other. Severus didn't mind as long as he could rest his head against his lover's comfortable shoulder. It was so warm, smelt so wonderful …

It seemed like a second later he was being shaken and Hermione looked down on his bleary face. "You need rest, Severus. I'll stay here and work to finish these up for you, but it's to bed with you."

Her failed Molly impression would have gotten a chuckle normally, but he was too tired. There was no fight from him as he left to go lie down in his room. He was out mere moment after the pillow met his head.


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

* * *

It took two more days for Voldemort to open the doors of her cage so she could leave. And Severus was allowed to go with her, although he was ordered by his dark Master to keep a strict eye on her.

"I expect to see you at dinner before the next Wizengamot session," Voldemort half-ordered her with a malicious smile. "There are a few bills that I want to discuss with you."

She wasn't surprised when they all jumped on her the moment she reentered Grimmauld Place. Her letter to them had been vague at best, only assuring them that she was better and being treated well. With that vague comfort, they all descended upon her when she entered Grimmauld Place.

All but Harry.

Everyone else welcomed her back and checked to see if she was okay. Kreacher and Csara popped in with their baby to check on her, the elves from her home magicked themselves back into Grimmauld to check on the Mistress they hadn't seen since she was sick in bed, and the Order interrogated Snape and herself carefully to make sure she wasn't hurt during her visit with the Dark Lord of All.

But Harry … Harry was in the back for all of it. He was there for the welcomes but didn't offer one of his own, there for the interrogation of the Order but didn't ask any questions of his own, there for dinner but didn't speak to her at all. Harry was the image of an agry, brooding teenager. His was a dark face shadowed by not only his own hatred of Snape and the additional dark magic pouring in through his scar.

Hermione dropped Severus off at his room after their welcome-back dinner and cast his signature _muffliato_.

"Potter appears to still harbor his suspicions," Severus told her, his face severe as it always was while dealing with Harry. "He will undoubtedly badger you about our _relationship_."

"I can't tell Harry, can I?" Hermione asked, eyes focused on the buttons of his frock coat to avoid his eyes. "I know he's probably the worst person to tell, I _know_ he can't control his mind, but … how can I lie to him? He's so angry at me."

Clutching her face deliberately his hands, he directed her amber eyes to look into his own. She didn't see any disgust for Harry, or any invalidation of her feelings. Simply care, although he looked slightly uncomprehending of her desire to share.

"What is happening has surprisingly little to do with Potter," Snape told her, her teeth clashing a little as he clearly held back a sneer at his name. She nearly smiled at the effort. "While you feel the need to share this with him, you are in no way obliged to do so simply because he is being a brat. Do you believe that any friend would sincerely want to endanger you for such a trivial thing as his own curiousity?"

It was a good point, well made, but she still didn't like having to hide things from Harry. He would ask about her relationship with Snape, and she'd have to tell him that Snape was her Master and their was a magical contract binding them, and then completely mislead him as to the identity of her mate. There was no other choice.

She hated that Voldemort had made Horcruxes. Hated that Harry had become one. Hated that because of it, she couldn't share anything with her best friend.

"Do you have anything that needs doing tonight?" Hermione asked him with a hesitant smile.

"No."

Hermione pouted at him, making him smirk. "Very well. If you require a task, witch, then I have one for you. The infamous Professor Umbridge has provided me a Ministry request for Veritaserum that she'll be expecting the second week of classes."

"When did that-?!" Hermione tried to protest, but Severus merely shushed her with a kiss.

"This was the day after Arthur was attacked," he told her. "I didn't want to worry you. Of course, we will not be providing real Veritaserum. If you can help me remain on my feet for the night, we can head back to the school and prepare a mild Suggestible Solution. Just strong enough to force answers and create the illusion of compliance, but easy enough to resist and lie through if it means enough to the recipient."

Hermione folded her arms over her chest. "And how are we supposed to make an otherwise red potion clear as water, and undetectable too?"

At that, Severus smirked. "You still have so much to learn. How about I show you?"

The prospect excited her, but she bit her lip. "I need to talk to Harry first."

With an exaggerated sigh, Severus agreed and planted a brief goodbye kiss on her lips. "Come back when you're ready to go."

Hermione wanted to leave him as much as she wanted to drink belladonna poison, but she knew the Harry deserved her honesty. As much as she could give him. It may soothe the demon in his head and give him a momentof peace once again.

All her knocks on his bedroom door went unanswered, forcing her to open the door uninvited. Harry was curled up in his bed, pretending to sleep even though his angry magic told her otherwise. After closing the door behind her she crept closer to the bed, choosing to sit within arm's reach of Harry on his bed.

"I know you're angry," she began, her voice softer than usual in the quiet of the dark room. "You think I'm hiding things from you and you're right to think that. But we _talked_ about this, Harry. Until you can keep HIM out, I just can't tell you. I trust you, I know you care about everyone here, but I just can't. I thought you understood that. Wanting to protect your loved ones."

Harry curled into and even tighter ball on the bed. Hermione reached out with her magic, soothing his angry magic and brushing against him as if she were a mother stroking his head.

"You're angry that it might be Professor Snape I'm protecting," Hermione sighed, leaning her elbows against her knees. "I wish you didn't hate him, but I understand why you do. I really understand. But I hope _you_ understand that even if it were Professor Snape, I couldn't tell you or confirm anything. It could be Malfoy. It could be Fred or George. It could be a muggle you've never met; there was this boy named David. His braces came off last summer and he's quite handsome now. But I really _can't_ tell you. I can't let you guess. But please don't punch anyone else over my honour."

This time she couldn't help herself, her hand was forcibly lifted in order to run it through her best friend's hair. She wished she could comfort him more than she was able to, to take away the blackness in his magic. Every time it brushed against her she knew exactly what or who it was and it made her sick to think that Harry might die because of it. If there was some way to save her friend, she knew she would do it.

"I'm heading back to Hogwarts tonight and probably won't be seeing you on the train back," she told him. "Try not to make Umbridge angry at school. Instead of blood quills, she's going to be trying Potions. She won't be getting proper ones from the dungeons, but if she buys any extras elsewhere we can't protect you. Don't drink her tea is what I'm telling you. Hopefully that horrid woman is gone soon."

One final pat on the head and Hermione stood up. "This will all be over soon, Harry. Once it really is done we'll sit down as a group with drinks, tonnes of sweets, a fire in the fireplace … and I'll tell you everything. Promise."

* * *

There were posters everywhere. It must have happened over break, when few teachers were still there to make a fuss. Her campaign with Skeeter a little while ago seemed to only delay the toad's rise to power as Umbridge had somehow gotten permission to make Educational Decrees and she'd wasted no time posting them over the entrance to the Great Hall.

Someone had betrayed the DA. Maybe not specifically, but Umbridge knew what they were meeting. Education Decree 24: "No student organisations, societies, teams, groups and clubs may exist without prior knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor."

But that was fine, though, downright splendid compared to the other decree. Educational Decree 25 was a travesty, giving the sadistic, blood-quill toting Umbridge the supreme authority over punishments. _Harry_. Harry would have it the worst, but she knew how Umbridge was with blood status from her own experiences with the vile woman, not to mention her evaluations with Flitwick and Hagrid. Anyone who was a muggleborn would be a target … and blood-traitors. The twins. They were already getting more and more reckless with her. What would she do to the twin troublemakers of Gryffindor Tower?

The decrees were posted in front of the Great Hall, but also on the heretofore unhelpfully blank walls of the Defense classroom. Hermione would have being tempted to hex the hanging affronts if her hand wasn't holding a tray of potions.

When she got to her quarters the golden plaque was there to mock her. ' _Dolores Umbridge, HIGH INQUISITOR'._ Withholding her shrieks of anger, she balanced the tray and knocked.

"Come in!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course, a person as _important_ as Umrbidge couldn't deign to open a door for someone. Balancing the tray precariously, she pushed open the door.

The rancid unripened pomegranate was sat at her horrible rosewood desk, pink coming off the walls to make her skin appear far too rosy, cats meowing around her. There was a tea tray and no parchment on her desk. Evidently Umbridge knew she was coming.

"Ah, _Miss_ Granger," she feigned a pleasant surprise. "Come for that tea, have you?"

Hermione bit her tongue. "Delivery from Professor Snape, Professor. Where should I-?"

"Bring them here."

Hermione brought the vials to the empty space on her desk, cringing a little as her stubby fingers grabbed one of the centermost vials.

"I'm supposed to let you know that for adults, three drops is the proper dose," she informed her, already turning. "If that's all-"

Umbridge's face lifted quickly and with a diabolical grin. "Oh, no, you must stay for tea, _Miss_ Granger. After all, I have to make sure the potion works, don't I?"

Hermione gasped. "But … it's Veritaserum!"

Her pudgy hand shook the vial in her face. "Yes, and _you_ are not a student, as you keep reminding me. It's not illegal to have an Apprentice test her Master's potions, is it?"

She swallowed harshly. If she took the potions and didn't answer the questions correctly, Umbridge would claim the Veritaserum was useless and take it out on Severus. If she didn't take it, she would do it anyways. She had to pretend it was working, but she'd never seen anyone under the effects of Veritaserum. What if she acted wrong?

"What if I refuse?"

Hermione grimaced at the evil grin on Umbridge's face.

"I'll just have to get your Master up here to do it for me, won't I? His apprentice should behave better."

With that threat, she plopped into the horrible 50's chair opposite the pink planet. "Shall I just open my mouth, then, or are you going to waste tea on me?"

It seemed her insult prompted Umbridge to actual pour her honest-to-goodness _pink tea_ , and _accidentally_ put a full half-vial of the Suggestible Solution in the cup. Hermione glared up at the smug woman; if she did that to Harry she'd only make his headaches worse.

"Here you go," the cup was placed with a clatter in front of her and Umbridge leaned back and nodded to her. "Enjoy."

Hermione steeled herself for a moment before she raised the cup to her mouth. Goodness, the tea she picked was like potpourri. It was so flowery she nearly choked on it for how dry it made her throat feel. Still, she chugged back the burning liquid until the cup was empty and the potion churning in her stomach before she showed Umbridge the empty teacup.

"Good girl," Umbridge cooed falsely. "Well, since you were so obliging, let's start this easily. Do you like me, Miss Granger?"

There was no way her tongue wouldn't answer, no matter that she wasn't fighting the Suggestible Solution on this one. "I hate you more than anyone I've ever met."

"Oh?" Umbridge giggled as if it were a compliment! "Why do you hate me?"

Hermione clenched her fists. "You used a blood quill on Harry. Harry is like my brother, and you _tortured_ him."

At that, the toad leaned forward. "Did you tell that to the Daily Prophet?"

Those exact words? "No."

Umbridge looked extremely angry at her answer. "Were you the reason for that first article?"

The Suggestible Solution wasn't hard to fight, not for an Occlumens – a lot like Veritaserum, in fact oh so much weaker – but Hermione didn't want to lie about this one. She wanted Umbridge to know it was her. And if this meant she could lie later … Hermione gritted her teeth, as if fighting against her own words, before she pretended to break to Umbridge's victorious face and said, "Yes."

"I knew it!" Umbridge hissed, grabbing Hermione's arm now. Nails dug into her arm and she yelped in pain. "How did you get those lies printed?"

"They weren't lies," Hermione was essentially holding hands with Umbridge, keeping her hand from inflicting more damage. "I sent Rita Skeeter a note telling her what you did to Harry."

She extracted her claws finally, letting Hermione rub her forearm. There was just too much happiness, smugness in Umbridge's face.

"Well, as you see, you only delayed the inevitable," Umbridge told her cockily, motioning to the Educational Decree that gave her the extra power. "No harm done. Now, let's keep this little confession going, shall we? Where do all you and your friends disappear to Thursdays evenings?"

First time to lie. Keeping her face Occlumency blank, she answered, "Thursday evenings I prepare the Potions classroom for Friday lessons and brew for my Master."

"Lies, Miss Granger?" Umbridge said sweetly. "Or maybe I'm asking the wrong question. Is Harry Potter going against Education Decree 24?"

Hermione kept her face blank. "I haven't read the decree."

That was a lie, but one that the venom-filled pâte-à-choux across from her couldn't confirm. It was so satisfying to see her fake smile shrink.

"Is Mister Potter in a secret club, group, or organization?" she clarified.

"No."

"No?" Umbridge repeated with false sweetness. "Miss Granger, you make this so difficult. I _know_ Potter is is trying to undermine me by teaching Defense to other students. Isn't he?"

Harry's motivation wasn't strictly to undermine Umbridge, but more about the war. So she answered, "No."

Ah, Slytherin loopholes. The best part were the angry red blotches that appeared on Umbridges cheeks and the vein pounding in her temple. If she wasn't pretending to be under the influence, she would have smirked at the woman.

"Is Potter running a Defence group?" Umbridge demanded, clearly trying to be clear.

"No." Hermione was running it, and Fred and George, and Ron; Harry was leading it.

"Is Potter teaching students defence?!" she shrieked.

"Not just Harry," Hermione answered. The toad's eyes lit up. "Everyone is tutoring each other. Students from every house. No one thinks you're preparing them properly for exams. I teach them too."

Umbridge's fake smile finally cracked and her face nearly turned purple with her repressed anger, just for a second, before she readjusted her jacket, smoothed it over, and put her saccharine smile back on. "You do, do you? Well, we'll have to put a stop to that, I would think. Let me ask something different; you say you view Potter as a brother, does he view you as a sister?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, barely keeping her face blank as she wanted to glare hatefully at the woman.

The toad-like, smug grin came onto her face. "And if you were in danger, what would Mister Potter do?"

The threat to her and Harry was clear and Hermione seized up, but still opened her mouth to give the reply. "He would save me, and you would regret it."

 _He would certainly beat_ you, Hermione thought angrily.

Fingers tapped happily on the desk. "I don't think so, Miss Granger. Now it's clear I will have to choose my words carefully with these questions, so I will be direct. Answer this; why did Professor Snape take you on as an Apprentice?"

Hermione frowned. "He needed one. I was old enough and talented enough."

"Did Dumbledore play any part?" her beady eyes glittered.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "The Headmaster told Professor Snape to look after me once I was of age."

Again, not a lie. Dumbledore was the reason Severus followed her that night, and he did tell Severus to look after her in his capacity as her guard then.

Umbridge's smile stretched right off her face. "Why does the Headmaster care about you?"

Hermione felt the bitterness that came from thinking about he Headmaster creep up her throat like a weed that she could never full the root up for. "He doesn't." _Not properly. Not with respect, or honesty. Not enough._

"Really?" Umbridgelooked confused. "Are you certain?"

Hermione pretended to struggle. "Yes."

The back and forth went on for a while. Umbridge asked even more about Dumbledore – more than anything else, more than her, her Apprenticeship, Severus, _Harry_ – but she kept it innocent. Dumbledore wasn't against the Ministry, Dumbledore believed Voldemort was back, Dumbledore wasn't focused on the Ministry because he was looking for where Voldemort was hiding. That made her face turn a putrid purple and shriek, " _He has no authority to say such things!"_

She bit her tongue. Every question was a battle of wills between them, Umbridge trying to find questions she couldn't lie about and Hermione trying to convince her she was under the effects of Veritaserum instead of concentrated Suggestible Solution. Finally, when she felt the waning looseness of her tongue Hermione gave Umbridge a scathing look.

"Are you and your friends against the Ministry?" Umbridge demanded.

"The serum seems to have worn off, Madame," she stood, giving her a cursory nod. "As a courtesy, let me answer that last question; my experience with the Ministry has been almost exclusively how it treats the person I see as my best friend and brother. Leave him alone and I will have no reason to go against anyone. But go after him? I will fight with everything I have to protect him."

Umbridge gave her a simpering smile. "So we should ignore naughty boys who don't obey their betters?"

Two hands slapped down on Umbridge's desk, making the potion vials tinkle in their case with the force. Hermione was furious. "Don't you dare talk about Harry that way. You know nothing about him! He is kind, and brave, and _good_. To even think you're in the same league as him, let alone his better, is laughable. You are worth nothing compared to him."

"Really?" Umbridge smirked. "You are the only one to think so, dear. You should read the _Prophet_ ; everyone knows what a liar the boy is."

Hermione glared at her with clenched fists. "Enough. If you _ever_ use a blood quill on Harry or anyone else again I will see you in Azkaban."

Mimicking Severus' infamous billow, she stormed down to the dungeons like a dark cumulonimbus ready to strike anyone that made themselves a target. Her magic roiled inside of her, just gathering charge.

Finally, she slammed the door of Severus' office with a screech. "I hate that woman! I will get rid of her if it's the last thing I do!"

Severus looked up from his book, eyebrow arched but otherwise the picture of composure to all but Hermione who knew the man was laughing at her underneath his calm exterior.

"Don't give me that!" Hermione ululated, throwing her hands up in the air. "That woman and her blood quill, pink _everything_ … she made me test the potion to 'make sure it worked.'" She made the quotation marks in the air. "That woman is the most puffed up, self-important, amoral cockalorum I've ever met!"

As if it somehow made her point, she threw herself down on the coach next to Severus with far too little grace for someone partnered with the formal Potions Master, but she didn't care right then.

Severus, though, didn't seem to care and moved to massage her neck with those long fingers. She sighed into him.

"Cockalorum?" he asked.

Hermione blushed. "It fit."

There was some silence, but it was comforting and Severus didn't stop massaging her neck.

"I'm sorry you had to endure her," he soothed. "Next time I will deliver the potions; she can hardly poison her Potions Professor, can she?"

Hermione sighed. "That doesn't fix the blood quill, or her overall hateful behaviour. There hasn't been another incident with Harry, but now she has authority over punishments. He's going to get hurt again. And she's going to fire Hagrid soon, you just know it."

"Probably."

Blunt, truthful, to the point. She actually found that comforting.

"I need to stop the slander campaign against Harry," Hermione said firmly. But then she sighed, thinking of everything else. There were a few ways to help with his reputation, but she couldn't think of how to get rid of Umbridge. Nothing she could think of seemed to work in her head, let alone in practice.

"What do we do?"

Severus' hands stilled for a moment. "Perhaps you could help those Weasley twins … and should the blood quill resurface, a photograph of the damage in the Prophet would do wonders. I believe the Creevey boy has a camera."

Turning to give him a kiss, she murmured her thanks against his lips. Whether or not Harry believed it, whether or not it could be public, Hermione knew she was eternally grateful for the intelligent, grounding, loving man by her side and would do anything for him.

* * *

 **AN: Hey! Imma back! I had some serious struggles writing this chapter because nothing felt right. Eventually I just went with this massive transition chapter but originally it had way more Voldemort and conflict, but there wasn't a way to incorporate it. I'll get the gist of that potential scene in later, but for now I'm just relieved to actually post something! Hope you all enjoyed!**


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

* * *

Severus may not have wholeheartedly approved, but she became _much_ more involved in the twins' pranking. Between simple passed notes with suggestions – ' _Her hair looks awful today. Should we fix it?'_ – to giving them modified Hiccupping Solution, to apparating to a muggle home improvement store and bringing back 30-40 mousetraps and teaching the twins how to use them, Hermione was determined to use the boys to bring Umbridge hell.

Like most of her suggestions, the twins improved on them all. The tiny little mousetraps now sported teeth and were more like mice themselves, scurrying after Professor Umbridge to bite at her pudgy ankles. A bucket of potion was hung above her office door that, when opened, dumped over her head and made the woman absolutely, irreversibly bald for a full week. The twins barely had to convince the elves to drop the Hiccupping Solution into the woman's intricate tea pot, leading to the High Inquisitor's most _dignified_ stomping to the Hospital Wing while hiccupping bubbles.

The teachers themselves seemed determined to undermine her. Any punishment they gave out was in strict confidence and done one-on-one with the student to prevent her hearing of it, and when her next Educational Decree was posted – prohibiting teachers from speaking to students about anything not related to their teaching subject, undoubtedly just so Hermione was no forbidden from teaching Defence – they flooded her office with written requests for help with various 'unrelated to their subject' issues.

But Harry … Harry was even worse than before. After that first panic attack he seemed more on edge, angrier, harsher. It seemed like he was trying to be strong to keep himself from falling apart again and Umbridge constantly demeaning and discrediting him wasn't helping.

The Professor was posting Ministry announcements on her classroom walls, denying the return of You-Know-Who, blaming Sirius Black for the breakout at Azkaban, besmirching Dumbledore and Harry alike many times over. She had taken to reading her favourites at the beginning of class just to provoke him. So far her ring, his wits, and Ron's sharp elbow had kept him from detention but it wouldn't last forever. She needed to cull the reporting.

Rita couldn't stop the Prophet from printing those things, but what could she do?

Then, in Defence, she saw Luna's Quibbler.

At first only a few dorms had a copy of the Quibbler interview until Umbridge caught a hold of it. The next Educational Decree made sure every student in school wanted a capy to know why it was banned. The next week saw the school swept up in chaos as Harry's interview with Rita Skeeter was published in Luna's paper. Everyone was either sharing a copy, borrowing, or buying to read the story and many students were won back over to Harry's side. Covers were charmed to look like books, the Prophet, whatever they could to keep Filch and Umbridge catching them with the elicit material.

But Umbridge had had enough with Harry. Ron came running into the dungeons after class that day, his face red from both the run and from anger. Hermione ran to the front of the room when she saw the panic in his eyes.

"She's given him detention again!" Ron yelped. "He said it's for three hours tonight, three! That bint-"

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

Ron's ears went red, but he didn't stop. "You're practically a teacher, 'Mione, you've got to be able to do something about this."

Hermione's blood went cold and she turned to Severus as if he held all the answers to her problems.

He did, but not what she'd expected. "The only way Mister Potter would be exempted from his most likely _deserved_ punishment-" his vitriol was clearly for Ron's benefit –"would be if an of age member of his immediate family – preferably the mother or father – or his guardian _who is part of a recognized House_ requested a different method of discipline. This was mostly used some two hundred years ago to ensure the safety of a House's heirs."

"Would she be able to say no?" Hermione clarified, an idea forming in her head.

Severus smirked and shook his head. "At that point, she can only negotiate what the punishment would be. I presume this is why she does not use such implements on the more .. _distinguished_ .. students. Family is, after all, _sacred_ in our world. You could even duel her over harm coming to your family member under her so-called care."

She hesitated and turned to Ron, who looked angry and confused at her beaming expression. "Where is Harry now?"

"He stomped off to the pitch," she was told, but Ron looked confused. "How're you going to help? Snuffles can't come 'ere."

"All he needs is adult family, Ron," Hermione told him excitedly. When he still looked confused, Hermione prompted. "The Head of a House. And which of us is an adult who just claimed her seat?"

Comprehension dawned, then disgust. "Ew, you're going to adopt him?"

"No!" Hermione barked. "I hope not, at least. I'm going to become his legal sister. And since I'm an adult, his guardian. … If he lets me. He was pretty mad when I came back on Saturday."

Ron's broad hand clapped her shoulder encouragingly. "Hey, Harry's not that mad. He just … doesn't want to lose you is all. This might actually help with that. Besides, siblings fight, right?"

She practically jumped to hug Ron at his words. Hopefully – hope beyond hope – Harry would agree. Turning back to Snape, she asked, "A sister would work right? An of age, older sister would be able to be his guardian in this case? Would it default to me?"

Severus nodded curtly. "That would qualify under the school charter."

Excitedly, she pushed for more, "Is there a way to do that magically so I don't need to go through the Ministry?"

Though the picture of disinterest as he cut ingredients, Hermione could see the amusement behind his quirked brow. "You presume I will interfere in this matter, Miss Granger. Perhaps Potter shouldn't whinge about his punishments and instead act like the adult he's determined to be and accept the consequences of his actions."

"Oi! He didn't do anything!" Ron shouted. "Umbridge is out for 'im!"

"Five points from Gryffindor for disrespect," Severus sneered.

Hermione put a hand on Ron's shoulder in warning, then turned to Severus. He had a face to put on and she'd need to give him an excuse to help that he could give to his noseless Master. It was self-preservation on his part.

"You know Harry's closest living relatives are muggles?" Hermione pointed out. "If something were to happen to him, all his vaults would go to them instead of someone magical. You can't want that, can you?"

Snape's knife halted briefly over his cutting board pensively, while Ron's face looked at her with a fish-like gaping maw.

She preserved. "I don't have any magical relatives at all. My seat would just … disappear. But I wouldn't want to pressure you. No, if you're tot uncomfortable we could always ask the Headmaster."

With a sigh, Severus put down his knife. "Blood magic is only legal with the person's consent, Miss Granger. If you truly wish to become a Potter – or have Potter become a Granger which would be infinitely preferable – you will need to bring him here and have him offer his own blood to the process willingly, without any delusions as to what it will do and without any compulsions, not even a Draught of Peace for his clearly frail nerves. The process should be similar to adopting a house-elf, I would think."

That phrase would sound offensive to Ron, but Hermione knew better. He was telling her they'd both be losing blood to this and would be drawing runes on each other too., and that he couldn't be wearing the ring they'd made him during it. With a wave of his wand, Severus summoned a few books from their quarters and set them on a desk in front of the room.

"When is his detention, Mr Weasley?"

Ron gulped. "R-right after dinner."

Professor Snape acknowledge him with a nod, but then turned back to his textbooks. "We may have to skip the meal to finish the process, but it should be doable. Fetch him, Mr. Weasley, while Miss Granger and I find the correct ritual."

Hermione saw him hesitate, casting a look between them. "I trust him, and we can't do this without his help. Now go get Harry."

It was a credit to Ron that instead of arguing that maybe Snape wasn't trustworthy or refusing to get Harry he went an did what they asked, albeit with a less than trusting look at Severus when he left. When the door closed behind him Hermione turned to the smirking man with a huff.

"Why does everything have to be so difficult with you?"

"Besides the entertainment value?"

With a huff, Hermione took one of the books they summoned and started looking. You'd think Severus was a fount of all knowledge, but there were a strange number of blood adoption types for various situations. From a distant relative claiming a child to parents choosing one of their other kids than first-born as an heir to one where you completely changed not only blood but the physical appearance of the child in question to match your own.

It was only minutes before Harry arrived that they decided a reciprocal blood bond. It wouldn't grant her guardianship because she wouldn't show up on their official, magical family tree unless his parents adopted her too – an impossible task. So they'd need a second ritual where Harry as the Head (well, he was Heir but he was also the last living member) magically accepted her into his House. It was the only timely solution that didn't make her his parent, something that made her cringe. Harry wouldn't want anyone filling the place of his parents and she really didn't want to either.

"Are you okay with this?" she asked Severus tentatively. When he didn't answer, she continued frantically. "Please tell me this is okay, I don't want you to hate this but he really is like a brother to me. I mean, Harry has been a part of my life for ages. But I love you and don't want to drive you away-"

His potion scented finger came to her lips, hushing her hurried speech. Dark eyes fixed on hers and she felt her breath catch at the love in his eyes.

"As we agreed, I will try to put things right with Potter once everything is through," he reminded her. "And even if I objected to the familial ties that would exist between Potter and any future children of ours-" her eyes widened, "I do not wish to see him harmed by that cow of a woman any more than you do. You have my blessing in this."

Too grateful for words, she planted several kissed on his face before they returned to their task.

Twenty minutes after Ron left he came back with Harry in tow. Nearly literally, as he was pulling a clearly shellshocked Harry by his elbow into the room. The vibrant green eyes of her best friend were darting all around, from her to Ron to Snape.

"Harry!" Hermione clasped his hands in hers and when he didn't pull away she beamed into his still shocked face. "I'm so glad you agreed to come. Did Ron tell you the plan?"

"You-" Harry seemed to choke on his words, his green eyes wide in disbelief now. "You want me?"

Severus made a disgusted noise behind her, but Hermione knew what he meant. Harry needed reassurance just like he did the night they'd met Sirius and suddenly had someone he could call family in his life. With his home life Hermione knew he had never felt wanted by family. For someone to willingly claim him as such …

"I want to be your _real_ sister," she promised, watching his face for any sort of happiness or rejection or anything. Nothing but disbelief. "If it's okay with you. I've thought of you that way for a while, actually, and with Umbridge after you … I can do this for you, Harry. You don't have to acknowledge me as your sister if you don't want to, but this way I can at least stop her from using that horrid quill on you-"

The normally undemonstrative Harry pulled her into a hug with a choked sob and Hermione had to snap from her own shock before she could hug him in return.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione held him as he shook. "You're really happy with this? You don't hate me?"

"No!" Harry pulled back, eyes wide and earnest, afraid. As if she would back out of the ritual because he had offended her. "I've been a prat. I'm so sorry, you can date whoever you like it's not my business."

"Harry, you don't have to worry," Hermione promised. "I've already spoken to him about you. He knows that no matter what you'll always be a part of my family. Even if other things change, I'll always be here for you."

They hugged once more until Severus' voice came from behind her, "How … touching. Now if you're done with all the sentimental nonsense we have a limited timeframe to perform this task that is ever growing shorter."

She saw Harry's hands clench but to his credit he didn't lash out. "He's right. Rude, but right. We have to finish this before your detention.

"First, you need to take off the ring I gave you, Harry. You can't be under any potions or compulsions when we do this."

Harry obeyed, although his magic spiked with anxiety as his safety net was taken out from underneath him. Before she even did anything, Ron sensed the panic in his friend and put his arms around the both of them, drawing them all together in a hug.

"This is a big moment, eh?" Ron squeezed Harry especially hard. "Hey, wanna adopt me too?"

"Oh, no no no," Hermione raised her hands in defense. "Your mother would KILL me!"

"Yeah, eww," Harry agreed with a grimace. "That would make me and Ginny _related_."

Ron shuddered at that too and their laughs broke the tension.

"Potter," Snape growled, "your focus, please."

Hermione broke away. "Right. Harry, we're doing two different rituals to make sure I become your default guardian, okay? Professor?"

"Indeed," Professor Snape rotated the book in front of him so Harry could read it. "This is the first ritual that we'll need to complete. A Reciprocal Blood Bond. It shall be first, and then we will perform the necessary magical rites for both of you to be accepted into each others' houses. Miss Granger has deemed this the most appropriate of the rituals for the two of you. You have two choices for this ritual; first being whether you will draw your own blood or allow your soon-to-be sibling to do it for you."

Her and Harry looked at each other and she could see just how terrified he was of anyone else using a knife on him again. Last time had been Pettigrew, resurrecting Voldemort. Hermione nodded reassuringly.

"Ourselves," they both agreed.

A quirk of the brow, but no comment from Severus. "Very well. First you must disrobe. Only to your underthings, please, I have no interest in seeing your bits. Mr. Weasley,-"

"Not looking!" Ron called, already turned around.

Hermione was blushing at this point, and she saw Harry's cheeks darken slightly too. They seriptitiously avoided eye contact as they took of their layers of clothing until Hermione realized she'd worn a corset today. As a part of her clothes, not as underwear. Reluctantly she kept stripping until she was left with only her panties, much to Severus' disapproval if his angry gaze was anything to go by. Her arms covered both her breasts as much as she could.

"Miss Granger, at least transfigure one of your other pieces of clothing to make up for your … lack," Severus kept his eyes down in case Harry noticed anything, but Hermione was grateful he'd even made the suggestion. Magic was still something she didn't think of in these kind of situations.

When she had changed her sock into a bandeau of sorts, Severus let Ron turn and they continued.

"Next, you will need to prepare for the runes to be drawn," the Potions Master told them. "Mr. Potter, do you think you could accurately draw these runes upon Apprentice Granger?"

Harry looked at the page and grimaced.

Severus sighed. "I thought not. But you do have the childhood skill of tracing what's already there?"

"Yes."

"Very well. Come here Miss Granger, let's get this over with."

Hermione went foreward as asked and Severus grabbed his quill from the inkwell.

"Hands."

Scratch. Scratch.

"Wrists."

Scatch. Scratch.

"Head."

Location after location was marked by runes until the final one, right over her heart. It was hard to stand still when Severus was breathing right on her cleavage, but finally the template was in place on her skin and she was made to step beack next to Harry.

"I trust I will not have to do the same for Potter?" Severus snarked at her.

Hermione had to fight a smile at that mental image. "No sir."

"Good," he nodded. Looking between the two of them, Severus proceeded. "It is important that you both understand what this will do. You both are Heads of a household, Aethon and Potter. Should one of you die, the other will inherit not only the title but the vaults, lands, and belongings as well. They will carry on your family legacy, whatever it may be, and be placed upon your family trees. You must trust each other explicitly.

"Additionally, Potter," Severus addressed the boy, "as you are not yet of age and a _sister_ is a far closer relation than your aunt and uncle, Miss Granger will become your guardian. She will become able to take control of all of your assets and even form betrothal contracts on your behalf. She, as your guardian, will be liable for you until you become of age. It would bring Miss Granger trouble if she doesn't know where you are, do you understand? She is responsible for you, and if you wish to honour that you will need to keep her appraised of your location and seek her approval for any extra activities."

"Or just bring me along like always," Hermione grinned at him. Harry grinned back and Severus rolled his eyes.

"Heaven help us with you three," he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Potter, at least tell me you understand what I just said."

Potter gave him a cheeky smile that would have meant point loss if he were in class. "Yes, sir."

"Watch it, boy," Snape growled.

Hermione was quick to redirect. "Harry, I know it seems silly, but you do need to understand what you're agreeing to. It's not just a title, not for another two years. It's—"

"You'll be my sister, right?" Harry looked at her with his heart in his eyes. She swallowed at the emotions welling in her. "And you'll … act like a sister should?"

Hermione could only nod.

At her nod, Harry smiled again. "Then let's do this, yeah?"

A loud thump interrupted the moment, startling the pair into looking at the large stone bowl Snape had less than gracefully placed on the desk. He proffered a sharp knife at Hermione.

"We will need about a cup of blood each," Severus warned her, his teeth a little clenched. Harry would say he was angry, but she knew he was concerned about them. "The number of runes make it necessary. However, the blade will numb you to the pain when you cut and I will heal you immediately before we proceed to the next phase. Do _not_ cut your wrists or hands unless you wish to see Madame Pomphrey, as I cannot and will not heal tendons, and be mindful that you do not cut too deeply. My recommendation is here." He tapped his long fingers against the fleshy part of her forearm. "You will still be able to direct the flow into the basin without risking any tendons this way."

Hermione wasn't very brave, she thought, while holding a knife. It was very lucky that Severus's knife was seemingly designed for this – something she'd ask him about later – because it required very little pressure to cut and, just as he promised, it didn't hurt her. While she dripped into the basin Harry cut in the same place. The both of them were dripping together into the bowl until Severus stopped them.

It was amazing to Hermione that Harry couldn't see how much Severus cared about his safety. When he healed Harry's cut he checked it twice, tested the skin tension, then checked one more time before pronouncing him healed it was plain for her to understand. _The worrywart,_ she thought fondly.

Then came the awkward part. Harry had a hard time keeping his eyes open while drawing runes on her, probably trying his best to preserve her modesty even though it was useless. Hermione didn't take the mickey, though, because her turn was just as weird. Though the runes themselves were fascinating and the situation one of growing anticipation, she still would prefer to never draw on Harry's navel again.

When they both were ready, they interlocked their hands and stared at each other. Her eyes asked if Harry really wanted this, wanted to be her family, and Harry's answered with his gratitude and happiness.

"Sinistro ad dextrum, wunjo ad gebo," Severus chanted wand making motion left to right, "ab umbilico usque ad caput, uruz ad kenaz," up to down, "a dextra sinistram, ehwaz ad raidho, "an upside down 'u', "Ex cathedra potentia ad sedem amoris, tiwaz ad ingwaz," a jab pulled back slowly, "sanguis est familiae, nexu atque magicae familia. Libenter se illi. Sic fiat semper."

At each part the runes on her body began to tingle. At the final line, their clasped hands started to tingle with their shared magic and the electric power spread through them both, catching each rune and setting it on fire.

Severus told her later they'd both been glowing the same way she did when going for her walks but her focus was Harry. The happiest smile was on his face, his eyes taking on a light she'd rarely seen. Her magic reached out to him and she felt th specific feeling he had and her breath stopped. The idea of family was so precious to Harry that the idea of having one of his own, no godfather stipulations and no obligation because of who his parents were was so precious to him. Hermione knew he'd be the best little brother she could ever have. She'd need to always let him know that she loved him, no matter what.

When the sensation died neither Harry nor Hermione held themselves back and just hugged each other.

"Hey little brother," Hermione laughed with a choking sob.

Harry hiccuped a laugh. "Hey big sis."

After a minute of being close, they separated and looked at Severus for the next step. Hermione could see in his eyes and feel in his magic that he was happy for her and her heart soared at his acceptance.

"Now comes the magical adoption," Severus informed them lowly. "You will be accepting each other into your house's magic, adding each other to your family trees that are recorded in the Ministry. Potter's will be easier, so he will go first. Potter, extend your wand to Miss Granger."

Harry fetched his holly wand from the pocket of his robes and extended it to her tentatively, as if it were a loaded gun he had pointed at her.

"Miss Granger, kneel down and grasp the end with your index finger straight along the shaft and your palm directly against the point – yes, exactly – and now Potter, repeat after me," Snape turned the page of his book and began reading directly, "Hermione Jean Granger."

"Hermione Jean Granger," Harry was clearly putting as much feeling as he could into this, his voice fluctuating deliberately. She smiled encouragingly.

"As Head to House Potter, I accept you."

"As Head to House Potter, I accept you."

"Blood of my father and mother."

"Blood of my father and mother."

"Sister and friend of this house."

"Sister and friend of this house."

"My magic acknowledge my claim."

Harry closed his eyes then, as if trying to feel the moment all that much more.

"My magic acknowledge my claim."

Hermione could feel Harry's family magic – the centuries of Peverells and Potters who had participated in rituals of old, familial magic – spread into her. It didn't matter that she had no idea what the magic was doing, it felt like home. Like a safety and comfort to her soul. A promise of belonging.

It was as if she'd just breathed in Harry, no darkness attached. The sisterly affection she'd had for him seemed to be the center of it all, settling Harry into a place of honor in her magic. Now, like Severus, she could feel him that much more clearly where Ron was still muddled away. It felt warm, like … home.

"You both felt the bond form?" Severus asked. They nodded, verifying the spell had worked. "Very well. Mr. Potter, you kneel now and Miss Granger, offer your wand. _Index_ finger Potter, pay attention.

"Apprentice, your part is a little more difficult," Severus told her. "You will not only be adopting him into House Aethon by magic but accepting your duty as Lady and Head of that to teach, protect, and provide for him. Only this acknowledgment will satisfy the Ministry's requirement for guardianship as it will bring him firmly under your House's protection. You may also provide your own vows alongside that, should you wish. Do you?"

Hermione nodded. When she'd seen the ritual she knew she'd be making other oaths to Harry. He needed to know how she truly felt about this, and the original words sounded to impersonal for the occasion.

"Fine. I will tell you when. Are you prepared?"

"Yes."

Severus nodded and began to read. "Harry James Potter."

"Harry James Potter."

"As Lady and Head of House Aethon, I accept you."

"As Lady and Head of House Aethon, I accept you."

"Blood of my blood."

"Blood of my blood."

"Brother and friend of this House."

"Brother and friend of this House."

"Ward of this House, child under its care."

"Ward of this House, child under its care."

"As Head I vow to teach, protect, and provide."

"As Head I vow to teach, protect, and provide."

Severus nodded. "Now your own vows, Apprentice."

Hermione nodded. "Harry, as your own family neglected you, I will care for you. As your own family threatened you, I will defend and avenge you. I vow to not only protect, but fight by your side. I will not only teach, but learn from you in turn. I will not only provide for you materially, but emotionally. As friend, sister, and family I love you and accept you in love to my House."

Harry looked up in shock at that. She looked to Severus and nodded to continue.

"My magic acknowledge my claim."

"My magic acknowledge my claim."

Her magic reached out as commanded, finalizing the bond with Harry as it adopted him into her magic. The space Harry took clicked permanently into place and a wholeness retook her. She savoured the happiness.

Or did for a moment before her magic met the parasite in him and Harry screamed.

Hermione didn't dare drop her wand, even as Ron yelled. She could see Harry's scar that was normally simply pink become a horridly fresh red. Her magic pulsed and pulled from the castle itself as it fueled the push. Hermione struggled to remain standing as the pain ripped through her because of the dark abomination within her brother struggling to clutch onto him as her own magic tried to complete its bond in spite of the light fighting the darkness.

In horror she saw Harry's scar widen and split open, bleeding from the freshly opened wound. Bright green light poured fresh from his lightning bolt, shining dangerously at them all and aimed directly at her. But she could withstand. The green grew brighter and brighter, Harry's screams turning to intermmitent begging and tears.

Then the final tendrils of darkness clutching to him broke. A green ball broke free from his scar in a final roar of pain from Harry. It lasted only a moment without its anchor before it faded from view, leaving both siblings to finally collapse on the stone floor.

Hermione struggled to keep her eyes open and she felt Harry sag against her as he fell unconscious too. Her eyes started to drift close as Ron and Severus ran forward to check on them.

"Harry, mate, are you okay? Bloody hell, you're bleeding. Snape! Fix him!"

"Give me space, Weasley, and I will! Potter, Potter! Unconscious, brilliant. He could be braindead for all I know. Weasley, go fetch Dittany from my private storeroom. Maybe Murtlap Essence too … wait, thre should be some in Her-Granger's bag. Accio!"

Hermione blinked hard, trying to remain conscious. She saw Severus apply Dittany to Harry's forehead and the edges sealed closed, but for a much lighter than ever lightning bolt scar."

 _At least he's stopped bleeding,_ Hermione thought wearily. It was her last thought before she finally closed her eyes and went to sleep.


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

* * *

The first thing she felt was warmth. Warmth on her back that was steady, sure, and warmth around her that sparked and danced along her skin. She sighed, relaxing into the restful waves and pulled under once again.

The second time she woke up, the warmth was still there but so was a tickling on the soles of her feet. She tried to push it away, but whenever she relaxed her feet went right back to the tickling.

"Hermione …" There was a rich voice very close to her, dancing in and out of perception. "… Potter … up, love … please."

Her movements were sluggish, but she pushed her heavy eyelids apart for a moment. Looking around she saw the dark outside of the castle, dewey grass beneath her feet, and Severus' steadying arms wrapped around her as he held her upright on the earth. The near-white magic was climbling steadily up from her ankles, covering her in a swirling pattern of sparks on warmth that helped her keep her eyes barely open.

"So tired …" Hermione yawned, sagging against him. "Wanna sleep…"

"No, don't sleep now," Severus sounded slightly urgent in her ear, making her eyes pop open just a little wider. "I need to make sure you're well. Just a few tests, alright?"

"Can't …" Hermione mumbled, eyes closing.

Snape shook her, forcing her eyes open so she could see his urgent expression. "You must gather yourself! Potter being tended to by Poppy but we need to know what happened to his scar."

Hermione turned barely, trying to look at him, but he had to help her turn because she was just too weak. She struggled to keep her head aloft. "It was … painful. He was bleeding."

"Yes, he was."

"Is he alright?" Hermione murmured, waking up a little more. "Harry?"

"We won't know until he wakes," he informed her, his voice tense. "This is why I need to know what happened."

She tried to focus and her mind felt like mud, but she held onto the thought of Harry, bleeding from his scar and it brought back the memory clearly enough for her to articulate what had happened.

"My magic hates horcruxes," she explained slowly. "My house magic is mine. It wouldn't accept Harry … not until … it was gone."

Speaking was an effort and a half, and she felt herself sagging into Severus again, eyes drooping. "It's gone."

The tension – the taut muscles and straining eyes that came with her worries – seeped away and she felt the darkness lure her back under. Within a moment she was once again asleep.

* * *

Severus was relieved, if nothing else, to get Hermione's verification of the events that took place. More than relieved, he admitted, to hear her say the horcrux they'd both been worried about now had no more connection to Harry's mind. Time would tell if it were true, but for now he was glad the girl in his arms had decided to expand her family to include the troublesome boy; the ritual may well have saved his life.

Nonetheless his ordeal was not over. He had two malignant narcissists to confront now, one dark and one disturbingly pink, and Hermione was incapable of confronting the second on Potter's behalf at the moment.

With great care he hefted his promised fiancée back through the dungeon entrance and to the Hospital Wing where Potter was resting still as a corpse under Ron Weasley's pallid watch and Poppy's experienced hand.

"Take care of her," he instructed the Matron. "I was able to wake her, briefly, to explain what she felt during the ritual. It seems to be that the light magic used – as Dumbledore would call it, _love magic –_ " he rolled his eyes derisively, "—was incompatible with the remnants of the Killing Curse within Potter's scar. Provided the it did no harm on its exodus the boy should be well."

Madame Pomphrey nodded professionally, but he could see the relief in her eyes. "Where are you going to be? If I need you?"

"Potter had detention with our _esteemed_ High Inquisitor this evening." Severus noted with disturbing satisfaction that the over-protective witch turned from a Healer to an Avenger in a matter of seconds. "Someone must inform her that he will be unable to attend. And then I need to run to get some more ingredients for the restorative draughts we'll need. I'll be a few hours at most, but I will return here the moment I return to the school."

But first … Oh, he was going to enjoy this. A malevolent smirk graced his face during his brief walk down to the Great Hall as he thought of how he could bestow the news of Potter's new untouchable status to the woman. Doing it mid-meal would be a wonderful addition to the news, but it required a more humiliating touch.

This time he would forgo the usual under-the-table approach and instead go for dramatics. Those were the most humiliating for the woman if her reactions to Potter were any indication.

Instead of the teacher's entrance, then, he steered to the main doors and entered right down the middle with robes billowing behind him. Teachers were rarely late for meals and so all the students quieted down to watch him head straight to the Headmaster.

"Ah, Severus!" Dumbledore twinkled at him. "We were beginning to wonder where you were."

Severus inclined his head politely, noticing with relish that the pink puff had her toady eyes fixed on their conversation. "I thought I would inform you, Headmaster, that Mister Potter had landed himself and my Apprentice in the Hospital Wing before I started on their restoring brews."

"Not again," Minerva placed her hand over her face. "What happened to them _this_ time?"

Severus swept over to Professor Umbridge. "Perhaps this would be more appropriate to address in private?"

Just as he suspected, the new most-hated-Professor would not wait. She puffed herself up in her chair before tittering out her protest, "I think not! I must know if the boy needs another punishment; getting himself into trouble to avoid a detention with me, how arrogant of the boy."

"Unfortunately, that detention will no longer be possible." Severus resisted the urge to smile and instead looked at her with an emotionless façade even as she sputtered at his words. "I doubt you will be allowed to punish the boy for the rest of your tenure here, Madame."

"WHAT?!" Even her normally forced composure broke at that. " _I_ am _HIGH INQUISITOR!_ I have _SUPREME_ authority over punishments!"

"Those given by the professors," Severus added as an addendum, earning a disbelieving look from the woman. The entire student body had silenced and was looking on the scene of Umbridge's creation and his intent. "Not those dictated by the family of the student. It seems my Apprentice heavily disagreed with the use of certain … ill-reputed magical artifacts to inflict corporal punishment upon Mister Potter.

"As of tonight—" he turned his robes with a swish to fully face the swiftly darkening face of the horrid woman, "—Mister Potter and Apprentice Granger are fully-bonded siblings of blood and magic. Meaning – as she is of age and now his closest living relative – she is the new legal guardian of Mister Potter and the final determination in his punishments. I'm afraid she's already given her edict on your punishments, Madame High Inquisitor, and you have no power to overrule her."

Umbridge's face was now a mottled purple, her rage plain for everyone to see. Her normally saccharine disposition was gone and her true personality was revealed to not only her enemies, but the children of her allies.

"What an oversight," the woman had calmed her tone, but there was still the tell-tale tremble of her rage within it. "I'm sure we will be correcting that particular problem soon."

"Oh, I didn't think that was under your purview, Dolores," Professor McGonagall interjected, showing her cat claws as she sank them into Dolores' already shattering delusions of grandeur. "I believe the extent of your decrees are to change rules set by the teachers and the Headmaster, not parts of the School Charter. Only the board can, as I recall."

"The Board will help me change it!" Umbridge snapped before she collected herself.

"I would not count on that, Dolores," Severus said with what he thought was a suitably commiserating tone. "Believe me, the Board will not approve a change that would take away their authority to discipline when their own children attend the school.

"I myself have tried before, but …" He waved his hand dismissively. "After all, family ties are so _important_ , aren't they? I'm sure the Chairman, Lord Malfoy, will be especially vehement."

He had indeed petitioned the Board, but only to get more creative in the punishments and even include spanking for younger years. Briefly he wondered what Hermione's thoughts on that particular punishment were, but dismissed that quickly. What right did he have thinking of future children with her if he wasn't even certain he'd survive in the Dark Lord's service?

The thought was gone in the flash and was replaced with a vindictive happiness. He could hardly contain his glee at Umbridge's various expressions – too many of which looked like she'd smelt something horribly repugnant – and stopped her before she could continue.

"Of course, feel free to write him tonight," he finished. "Perhaps he will understand your plight. However, I must return to taking care of my foolish Apprentice and her new brother."

Severus swished his robes behind him and didn't stop his malevolent smirk from being seen by the now murmuring students. Let them see that Professor Snape, bat of the dungeons, tormentor of children detested the woman as much as any of them did.

"Would you like the elves to bring a calming cup of chamomile tea, Dolores?" He heard Professor Sprout say behind him. "You look rather riled up."

The grin he sported grew. It seemed it had worked just as well as he'd hoped.

Now he needed to move onto the less entertaining part of his evening. His proported Master.

Within twenty minutes he was free of the wards surrounding the school and off to Malfoy Manor, popping in directly to the entryway to the shock of the Death Eater guard on duty. Hmm, so the female Carrow had entryway duty tonight. That information was tucked away as the woman came forward and he glared at her.

"I need to speak with the Dark Lord. Now, Miss Carrow. And if you cannot hold your wand properly I suggest you don't point it in my direction."

Alecto glared as if she could actually Avada him through her eyes but nonetheless escorted him to the Dark Lord's study – formerly Lucius' smoking parlor, one he'd frequented for an after-supper brandy – to interrupt what appeared to be a refresher course on curses he was hosting for his followers, if flaming, decapitated, and blown up dummies were any indication.

"My Lord," Severus bowed low to the man. "I bring news of Potter. There has been a change in his situation."

"Well?" His master swept back from his followers and sat in his high-back chair, a bit dramatically. His red eyes narrowed. "It must be important for you to make the journey to me during the week."

"You needed to hear it from me first," Severus informed him. It would be better to set expectations low for the news in the event it was viewed insignificant in his master's eyes. "My Apprentice is involved."

He watched his master's fingers drum against the armrest and dared to press forward.

"The woman Fudge has placed at Hogwarts has been using blood quills upon some of the less … favoured students," Snape explained, though undoubtedly the man had heard something of the toad. "Mr. Potter has been her focus and she is intent on discrediting and breaking the boy as I told you. She has avoided using this method since her public exposure, but no longer. She was given authority over punishments at Hogwarts once again."

"Severus," Voldemort warned. "To the point."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus intoned. "In an attempt to save the boy from being tortured, my Apprentice decided he needed a _family_ to protect him. She is now Potter's sister in blood and magic; his guardian by familial right."

The red eyes before him tightened tellingly. Severus quickly lowered himself to his knees and looked no higher than the Dark Lord's knees.

"And you did not prevent this?" Voldemort hissed, the skeletal hand gripping fiercely at his wand as a warning of what was to come. "You allowed her?"

"I could not stop her," Severus told him. "My Apprentice is single-minded in her goals and knows my tenuous position as spy in the Order, deperate enough to save the boy that she threatened my position with the old man. She said that should I not help her in the process, she would have another of the Order do it and tell the Headmaster of my refusal. I had no time to plan or prevent; it was quickly decided and done just this evening. Should she have gone to Dumbledore or McGonagall, they would accuse me of allowing the torture of their Golden Boy."

"Traitor!" a hysterical Bellatrix cried out, voice shaking with madness. "You denied out Lord and now you dare to fail him?! You should have gone to Azkaban with the rest of us!"

"Bella!" Voldemort roared at her.

Bellatrix simpered under his loathing gaze and Severus observed the tenuous patience in his Lord's face. Apparently his recently emanicated followers were not only in need of recovery, but a reintroduction to civilized society if they were grating so obviously on the Dark Lord's patience.

Voldemort twirled his wand in his hand, showing everyone that he was armed. They knew exactly how quickly he could curse them then and the followers present all turned back to their exercises.

"So much time here and she still dares to disappoint me," he finally sighed. Eyes snapped up to Severus', a hard glint there. "My reluctance in pushing the girl has made her too relaxed. I will need to see her sooner than I expected. And for longer. I believe it will take the whole weekend, don't you?"

Bellatrix laughed maniacally at Hermione's impending visit, clearly a sadistic fantasy playing in her head as she cursed a whol straight through where her dummy's heart was.

"Yes, we need another _chat_." The Dark Lord swept around Severus as if he weren't even present to open the parlor's door, letting his robes roll over him degradingly. "Fetch me Lucius!"

Soon the blonde strode hurriedly into the room, still the picture of composure to all. "My Lord?"

"Contact Greyback," came the order. Severus' breath stopped. "Tell him to bring Lupin to me _personally_ Friday evening. I require both of their presences for a very _special_ dinner."

"Right away, my Lord."

Severus bowed low and forced himself to tap into his darker side, keeping his voice neutral. "My Lord, again I must ask whether to prepare for her death."

Severus shuddered as he felt Voldemort placed a hand on his head like a Master with his dog. A subtle reminder of his place that should have been also a sign of affection but only came across as threatening. A vulnerability in front of the most dangerous man he'd ever encountered.

"Why kill her when she had such value still?" His hand moved to force his chin up so red eyes met black. His Master's hands were cold as ice, his malicious smile burning with with promise of a fiery demise. "I shall merely have to remind her of my power. While I played the long game with her, she was playing with me. Perhaps I have been too kind to the girl, too indulgent. And perhaps the same could be said of you, Severus. _Crucio._ "

* * *

Hermione woke up briefly in the dark of the evening to a panic flaring in her bond with Severus. The rare sensation that told of him being tortured killed her, but it was thankfully brief and the bond returned to normal not twenty minutes later. But unlike before when they were waiting for Mr. Weasley, the sensation was weak because she was. Her body was heavy and her muscles seemed to have no energy, nothing that could be used to move. The brief magical flare within her was the only thing keeping her awake. Once it died down, her eyes shut again in her exhaustion and sleep overcame her.

The next time she woke, she panicked. Shed' dreamt of Harry, of his head being rtuly split open and no one being able to heal him but her. And she was sleeping, _sleeping_ as her best friend and now brother died. It was worse to wake up and be unable to move. She screamed in frustration as her attempts to move only made her body twitch.

The matron, in her signature cranberry and white, came out of her office then to check on her.

"Harry, where's Harry?" Hermione's voice was as soft as he body felt, but to her it felt like she was screaming. "Is he okay?"

"Just fine, dear," Madame Pomphrey said as she prodded Hermione with a wand. "I'll draw his curtain back so you can see him from now on, hmm? You are both simply severely depleted. And from the looks of it, you were already somewhat depleted when this happened."

Hemione shrunk slightly at the disapproving frown on the matron's face. "WE weren't expecting—"

"No, young people never expect anything to go wrong," Madame Pomphrey sniffed. "No matter. But you are not going to use any magic, and magical artifacts, or even potions unless I've okayed them, clear? Now, the only potion I can approve at this point is an invigoration draught, but it does not replace rest. It is simply to help boost the amount of energy reserves you have."

After drinking her potions, being prodded by Madame Pomphrey, and pestering the woman until Harry's curtain had been drawn briefly so she could see for herself that his head had closed up, Hermione finally relaxed a little.

The draught had given her a bit of energy, so she decided to make herself useful. It was quickly determined that she needed to research their situation, and the only book Madame Pomphrey had that would be useful to her was the School Charter. She poured over it. The only information she had on the ramifications of the adoption was from Severus, and she needed the certainty of having read it herself and memorizing the processes and rules herself. She made it through the familial rights with all the focus she could muster before she finally relaxed enough to sleep again.

The third time she woke there was yelling. Well, Madame Pomphrey was yelling. Her head felt groggy with sleep, her body tender and aching as words flew in and out of her consciousness. " _My job … remind you … insubordination … Potter …"_ At Harry's name Hermione fought through the haze of exhaustion to pulled herself up enough to see Madame Pomphrey demanding a certain pink toad leave the Hospital Wing.

"My patients aren't even awake yet!" the Matron insisted tersely. "You may be High Inquisitor, but this is a place of rest and recovery, and I refuse to wake them up just so you can strain them even further."

"I can talk to her," Hermione voiced, though too raspy for the strength she'd been trying to show in front of the horrible woman. Umbridge looked gleefully at her, knowing she was awake. "I'm awake now."

"Oh, dear," Madame Pomphrey bustled over, wand waving and diagnostic charms checking her all over. "You're system is still weak, Apprentice. You shouldn't strain yourself."

"I'm fine, promise. Can you check on Harry?" Hermione levelled a hateful glance at the pink pig. "I need to speak to our _High Inquisitor_."

Madame Pomphrey sighed but acquiesced, heading over to Harry to get out the fussing that would have been spent on her. Lucky for the poor boy he was still fast asleep.

Professor Umbridge came as close as the end of her bed in order to look down on her with her burnt-caramel smile but no further. Carrying a clipboard, Hermione noted, and a self-inking quill.

"Feeling better, Apprentice?" So she didn't get a name today, Hermione noted. I might have been offensive if she cared. "There has been some talk since you were … rendered incapable yesterday. I just wanted to confirm the real reason you are in the Hospital Wing with Mr. Potter."

Hermione copied Severus' infamous smirk, although the effect was lessened propped up on the pillow as she was. It still made Umbridge's smile turn sour.

"Harry and I were doing some magic, Professor, and got a little depleted," she explained vaguely, noting the red shade of her face that came from being frustrated. "You see, Harry and I don't have any proper family, so I thought I'd make him my real brother. Great news, isn't it?"

Umbridge's smile was more of a grimace. "Yes, congratulations. However, Mister Potter did this knowing he had a detention with me last night. I'm afraid I'll be adding two additional nights onto his current one. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, Professor." Umbridge looked utterly victorious before she continued. "But it will have to be with another teacher. You see, I don't trust you with the discipline of my little brother. You've already scarred him, you see, and that is unacceptable for the heir to the Potter Lordship, don't you think?"

Her toady-eyes spit fire, but she still had that fixed smile on her face. "Surely you don't mean naughty boys should go unpunished?"

"Of course not," Hermione matched Umbridge's overly polite tone. "However, he will not be punished by you. I will of course be forced to take this up with the Board of Governors if you don't agree."

"And you really think the Board of Governors with side with _you_ over me?" Umbridge sounded off. Her polite tone was gone, and her face turning a garish red. "I'm High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, and Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic! You are simply a hateful, immature, arrogant girl who only graduated early because of a senile Headmaster, and Mister Potter is a compulsive liar who needs every bit of discipline I can give him until he learns that children like him should be silent!"

Hermione rose shakily to her feet. She would not – would definitely not – allow this salad dodger to look down at her any more. This was a show of strength, and even if the woman were nearly the same height as her she straightened and did her best to look down her nose at the woman with every bit of hate in her.

"Let me make this clear to you," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "those kinds of statements will get you in trouble, Madame Umbridge. I know my rights as Harry's guardian and you saying those things in front of anyone besides me will be considered slander against my House. You know what that means?"

Umbridge took a step back at the ferocity in her tone. She was too weak to advance after her, but she continued her attack.

"It means that since you have no proof that Voldemort—" gasp, "—has not come back, I could demand restitution."

Umbridge pointed her pudgy finger rudely in her face. "The Ministry has said—"

"An excuse like 'the Ministry said' will not fly when there's no _proof,_ " she snarled. "I think you'd need to provide a body for that, wouldn't you? Wasn't Voldemort's body was never found?"

Hermione didn't let up. "And even if you did win that point with the Ministry, Harry is under my protection, understand? You will not defame Harry in front of his classmates or anyone else. And you will _never_ hurt Harry again.

"I told you that the next time I caught you attacking Harry again that I would see you in Azkaban," she reminded her. "Let me expand on that, _High Inquisitor._ If you hurt _any_ student again I will see you in Azkaban. I'll send proof to the Prophet _and_ the Quibbler that you're abusing children. I'm sure that, with your Minister's Decree printed with it that even Fudge will turn on you and say he had nothing to do with the punishments just to save face.

"And if, for even a second, you hurt Harry I will not only duel you for harming my House's ward, but I will kill you in that duel as is my right. If you value your life you will not even think of Harry again. Are we clear?"

"You're _threatening_ me?" Umbridge snarled. " _Me_?"

"No," Hermione levelled a look of pure contempt at the witch. "I am reminding you that there are consequences to hurting people. And to crossing me. If you think you can beat me in a fight I'd welcome you to test me. I'm usually not sadistic, but I can't promise not to smile when I divorce your head from your body."

Umbridge's face turned a shade of purple now, her face so contorted it was hard to tell exactly what her expression was. Her heels clacked as she stomped away down the rows of beds, but she should have known Umbridge would have the last word on the matter.

"I will be taking this up with the Board!" Umbridge screeched, turning briefly to point her chubby finger at her even as she rushed from the Hospital wing. "You will learn, girl!"

Despite wanting to bite back, she shut her mouth and let the spiteful woman leave with the final word. Hermione didn't want Harry hurt, but she silently hoped Umbridge made a failed attempt just so she could fight her. There was no way a woman who didn't even teach Defense practically could beat her with the training Moody had drilled into her skull.

"Scary. Brilliant, but scary."

Hermione whirled around to see a tired-looking but absolutely beaming, happy Harry awake on his bed. Even Madame Pomphrey was smiling, although hers was hidden behind her hand.

"Harry!"

She took a step in his direction but promptly tumbled to the ground with a squeak. Apparently adrenaline was the only reason she'd been allowed to stand when Umbridge was there. Her legs felt like stuffed jello … stuffed with lead, or maybe a baby elephant each. Her strength had apparently left with Umbridge.

"Miss Granger, really!" Madame Pomphrey bustled over. "I told you not to push yourself! Your system is already exhausted … See, there, you've already pushed yourself too far dealing with that dreadful woman. It's back into bed with you, and don't you think of stepping another foot out of it for the next few days or I will knock you out myself, you hear me?"

She was folded into the bed by the Matron with probably more vehemence than was warranted, earning a snicker from Harry that had her sticking out her tongue childishly. But the childishness filled her with a fondness and … what was it? There was a feeling from Harry, not strong yet because of her exhaustion, but she could only describe it as _happy_.

Did that mean the Horcrux was gone? Hermione tried to search with her magic but she couldn't even move her legs, let alone extend any energies outside herself. For once she wishd the Headmaster was here. He would be able to tell if the Horcrux was gone.

"Are you alright?" she asked Harry quickly, but couldn't help herself and turned to Madame Pomphrey. "His head's okay? He can talk, but does he remember everything, does he still have motor function?"

"Better than ever," Harry said, although his face twinged a bit as he tried to move his body. "I mean, feeling like I did that time I got hit by a double bludger, but still …"

"You are both fine, but you have had all your energy reserves completely depleted," Madame Pomphrey informed them. "Both of you are lucky that whatever passed through you was kept from depleting not only your brain but your vital organs. Now, you will feel less fatigued and sore in those areas, but I don't want to see you stress them anymore than your limbs, you hear? You are going to be taking Invigoration Draughts twice a day, and I have crafted a specific diet that you will follow as long as you're here. And you will not be feeding yourselves either for I am quite serious that you rest as much as possible.

"I understand neither of you want your school nurse feeding you," she looked down her nose at both of their blushing faces, "so luckily for the both of you, a couple of elves have already volunteered to bring your meals to you in a timely manner and take the time to feed you."

Hermione gulped. Her elves! They would be beside themselves, and they probably couldn't feel her magic anymore than she could. And she hadn't even told them she was adopting Harry, and they really should have been there since they were part of her family too, in their own sense. Oh, she'd botched everything with regards to them because she was so focused on Harry. She should at least call the Hogwarts ones, let them know what was happening and have them tell Csara and Helgy …

"I think I know the ones you mean," Hermione told Madame Pomphrey. "Frat, Gem, Pinky, Trink!"

All four elves popped in immediately, faces worried and excited all at once, ears wigglin back and forth as if the _ears_ paced with worry instead of the elves.

"Mistress!" The elves cried, throwing themselves at the bed and hugging the sheets.

"Miss Granger, these are _your_ elves?" Madame Pomphrey asked, shocked.

"Yes, ma'am," she replied. Hermione then turned back to her elves with an apologetic grimace at their panicky and frenetic care. "Sorry for worrying you. Do you know what happened?"

The elves nodded. "You is helping Master Potter likes you help Kreacher. And is making more family!"

 _Wording_ … Hermione resisted the urge to facepalm. "Yes, your little family is a little bigger. Harry is my brother now."

"Master!" Hermione turned and saw Harry with his own elf now sobbing at his side. It seemed he'd taken inspiration from her and summoned Rue as well.

"We're both fine now, though," she told her elves. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you about it ahead of time."

The elves all shook their heads. "We is happy to be serving the two Masters and our Mistress."

" _Two_ Masters?" Harry gaped. "Wait, he's just your boyfriend, right? How can he be-?"

"Master and Mistress be bonded pair," Rue told his master eagerly. Hermione's eyes widened at the realization that she had never ordered that elf to secrecy, and since he was now a part of the family. . . "Magic be strong in bond."

"WHAT?!" It wasn't Harry that yelled, it was Madame Pomphrey. "You two got married and you didn't tell me?!"

"No, no!" Hermione raised her hands in surrender, trying to stave off two bad reactions. "It's the same bond as the beginning! It's my magic, we didn't get married, not legally. I swear, we're not married yet!"

Harry clearly didn't believe her, because he just looked dazed. "I have a brother-in-law too?"

Hermione tried to keep a straight face, she did. But just the absurdity that Harry would call Severus Snape his _brother-in-law_ did her in. The laughter bubbled up her throat and before she knew it she was holding her stomach, wheezing with laughter. Even Madame Pomphrey, stoic and no-nonsense as she tends to be, was laughing lightly at Harry's words.

"Oh, oh, it hurts," Hermione moaned her next couple of laughs. "Harry, no, no! Never call him that; ha, it's too much!"

"What's the joke?" Harry asked blankly.

Madame Pomphrey gratefully stopped her laughing and his questions by going over the rules for their stay; they needed to sleep whenever they were tired no matter what time of day, do homework or another calming activity when they were awake, and there would be no walking unless she was there to help. If they did that, then we'd be out of the ward by the end of the weekend and ready for classes the next Monday.

When Poppy finally left them to it, Harry turned over in his bed, tucking himself in as if to sleep but still facing her with bright eyes.

"I feel … lighter," Harry said. The wonder in his eyes was heartrending, and Hermione warmed all over. "Is it gone? Is … _HE_ gone?"

Hermione felt her smile wobble with emotion. "I think so. WE need to ask the Headmaster first, to be sure, but I think he might truly be out of your head."

The smile she got was blinding. "Does that mean you can tell me things now? That I can speak to Dumbledore again?"

"Harry…" How was she supposed to say this? "You should really be careful … about who you follow."

His smile died and brows furrowed. The light gone.

"But it's Dumbledore."

A sigh. It was moments like these she remembered how much longer she'd technically lived than Harry. Despite everything he'd lived through he was just so unbearably innocent. Naïve.

"Professor Dumbledore is still human," Hermione said deliberately. "And he has made many mistakes. You shouldn't follow him blindly, Harry."

"I agree."

Their heads swivelled and they saw the Headmaster, eyes old and ancient and deep, walking into the room with a black shadow following him. _Severus_. Hermione couldn't help but let her eyes linger on him before focusing back on the Headmaster.

She should have known Dumbledore'd come the moment they woke. That he'd know exactly when to appear. Hogwarts answered to him, and its walls heard everything.

"Headmaster." Even though she'd meant every word, she was still apologetic. "I-"

"I know, Apprentice," Dumbledore said, looking on her with kindness. "It is a good sister who protects her brother."

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry called hesitantly, "what does she mean?"

Hermione shared a look with the ancient wizard, prodding him. If anyone deserved the truth, it was the boy who'd been forced into the dark for so long. If Harry was truly free of the Horcrux, then she hoped to be completely honest with him.

His blue eyes turned to the Boy-Who-Lived. "Harry, I must apologize. I knew of the connection between you and Voldemort long before Miss Granger did, long before even you understood. I also know of the damage it would do to you. Yet I took it as fact that nothing could be done to change it.

"Your sister is right to be upset with me, Harry. For in the short time she has known about your troubles and their cause, her love for you has done what I had not – she saved your life."

Harry looked shell-shocked, but Hermione didn't know if it was from the revelation that he'd have died or the fact that the Headmaster had known that and done nothing. Still, she couldn't let it go. Her anger had been bubbling inside her for weeks and Harry deserved to know the whole truth.

"Don't you dare try to downplay this," Hermione said, glaring at the Headmaster. "If you're going to tell him, you tell him the truth."

With a sigh, the Headmaster sat on the end of Harry's bed. "Harry, perhaps we should have a talk. Would you mind terribly if I spoke to him in private, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her head no, but still felt as if she'd handed Harry over to Voldemort when Dumbledore placed a silencing ward around Harry's hospital bed. Although she shouldn't have, she looked to Severus for comfort. With thin lips, Severus approached her bed.

"Does he know?" There was no preamble, simply a pointed question.

Hermione shook her head, trying to soothe the line of his lips with a soft and loving smile. "I wouldn't do that without asking first. Promise."

Severus relaxed as muh as Severus ever did in public – a flicker of his eyes upwards and a deeper than normal breath. Within a half-second the tension returned though, black eyes sucking her in to a world of worry.

"The Dark Lord has summoned you," he said. "In two days time he expects me to deliver you to Malfoy Manor where he will be waiting with Lupin … _and_ Greyback."

Hermione stiffened. Greyback. Targnak's warning ran through her head, the very possibility that he would sniff her out, set sparks of panic that she doused quickly before they could become a flame.

"Severus …" Hermione felt small looking up at him in her worry, a child looking for comfort.

"I have been assured you will not be killed, but I have no doubt you will be assaulted in some way," he stated stiffly. That he refused to meet her eyes when he said so told of his concern. "And should he attempt to keep you there I believe he expects you will escape. Which I insist you do without hesitation or restraint, regardless if it is in response to imprisonment or your torture."

Hermoine bit her lip nervously, but then shook the troubling thoughts from her head. They'd made provisions for her discovery, what would be done if Voldemort should come to know of her, er, _magical composition_. She would go and spare Severus the pain of disobeying his orders.

"I'll be fine," she promised. Severus deserved her comfort. Then, switching the subject, "About telling Harry…"

Severus pinched his nose. "You believe he will accept it? Respect the need for secrecy?"

"And he would probably do better in your Occlumency lessons too," she pointed out hopefully. "Or I could help him, like I should have been already. I, I really want to tell him."

Then a laugh bubbled over her lips. "He called you his brother-in-law."

The look of sheer horror on Severus' face was entirely worth it. She lost it, laughing with her tired stomach. Severus' lips quirked in amusement soon after, as he was wont to do when she was giggly.

"Fine," Severus said in resignation. "We have another few months for the boy to learn Occlumency before he inevitably has his annual reunion with the Dark Lord. Tell Potter. But you _will_ ensure his silence on the matter, and there will be no chance of being overheard. Swear."

She felt herself beaming. "I promise, I promise! Thank you!"

Just then she felt her magic shift. Just a little, so weakly that it might as well have been a bowtruckle moving against a giant, but she felt enough to know the source. Harry. Hermione turned and saw Harry looking so incredibly angry and heartbroken that no hearing was necessary to know that the Headmaster had just told him – in whatever terms he'd chosen in order to minimize their impact – that he had been planning Harry's death.

She could see also that this was probably the perfect time for Dumbledore to tell him as well. The wild movements and anger that would normally been directed at the Headmaster was tempered by the simple fact that Harry struggled to even lift his arms. The anger was too exhausting with his already gross fatigue.

Her best friend – instead of yelling and jumping about – turned and buried his face into the scratchy Hospital Wing pillow and just cried.

When he shook off Dumbledore's hand, Hermione couldn't sit there any longer. It took using the bed posts and side tables but she pulled herself to Harry's bedside and crossed the silencing barrier Dumbledore had cast. Harry wasn't just crying. He was screaming his sobs, barely muffling the sheer heartbreak into the down.

Hermione sank heavily to his side on the bed and wrapped her arms around her new brother. _Her_ arms weren't thrown off.

She turned to the Headmaster. Should she be feeling pity for him? For the trust he'd lost, for the relationship that had been hurt or even destroyed? Hermione sighed. He truly deserved her pity but also her reproach. Perhaps – now that Harry knew – she would try to speak a little on his behalf once Harry was calmer.

"You should go," she said.

Dumbledore said nothing but left, taking Severus with him.

With them gone, Hermione lay next to Harry and laid her arms around him She was much to tired to be able to pull him or anything like that.

"He w-was going to let-t, hic, him kill me," Harry cried. "I th-thought—"

"Shhh," Hermione hushed him. "Shhh."

Hermione held him until he cried himself to sleep before following soon after.

 **Harry's POV**

"There we are," Dumbledore said, stashing away his wand again with a wink. "Just the two of us. Man to man, so they say."

Harry frowned. "Umm, sir, why does it need to be private?"

The brief playfulness was forgotten. Harry already regretted this line of questioning and his gut roiled in worry. If even the Headmaster looked serious it had to be bad. Dumbledore rarely looked serious. Not after he went after Quirrell, not after the Chamber of Secrets … he had been kind of serious after the Third Task, he guessed, but even that serious conversation hadn't made the Headmaster this sad-looking. Harry could swear he saw tears in his mentor's eyes.

"Your sister is still angry enough at me," the man said with a sad smile. "I think we'd both prefer she not interrupt as loudly as she would."

Now _that_ worried Harry even more. "Why is she angry?"

"Because she loves you, and you have and would have suffered for my decisions," Dumbledore said, extending his hands. "I am not infallible, my boy."

"I know that!" Harry quickly reassured him. "I do!"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Oh, Harry, this old man does not deserve the comfort of the innocent youth.

"It seems the time is coming close," he became serious once more. "And as the time comes, there is much that needs sharing. Shall I tell you a story, hmm?"

Harry nodded quickly. He was burning with curiousity.

"Thank you." Dumbledore nodded. "Now, the story begins with a job interview, funny enough. Have you ever wondered why Sybil came to Hogwarts, or why she was allowed to stay?"

He had. Everyone had except for people like Lavendar and Pavarti, the girls who just fluttered over their tea readings and charted their horoscopes all the time.

"The night I interviewed her, she had a moment of true prophecy. It was … a devastating pronouncement. It decreed that a boy born when you did – at the end of July – that was born of those who had thrice-defied him would be the one to kill Voldemort. That Voldemort would mark him as his equal, and that one could not live while the other survived."

His hand immediately flew to the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. Harry felt his eyes go wide, felt his hands go clammy and shaky, felt his heart beat faster. This was the part everyone had been hiding from him all summer, all school year.

"Sybil was immediately put under my protection, but the harm was done. A portion of that prophecy made its way to Tom's ears and your parents became targets," Dumbledore continued. "It is the reason he made his way to Godric's Hollow that night. It was not mere spite that drove him to kill your parents, but his need to kill you to ensure his immortality."

The tired-looking Headmaster took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Harry felt like doing the same but kept himself from it. Any sign that he was sleepy and the Headmaster might think he was too tired to hear what he was saying.

"Then Voldemort cast his curse, only to have it rebound. Harry, that night Voldemort had planned on using your death – the death of the prophesied and promised savior – to create a horrible piece of magic. It is known as a Horcrux."

Harry felt sick as the Headmaster explained exactly what the hell a Horcrux was.

"He came to your home with his soul already ready to break away from what remained of the rest of his," the Headmaster explained. "And with that, when the curse touched you and the magics that your mother left with you forced it to rebound. that piece of soul that was already prepared by him broke off … and latched onto the nearest living thing. A baby boy with bright green eyes and a new scar where it could concentrate itself. A scar shaped like a lightning bolt."

"I-I-I," Harry chocked on the words threatening to burst from him with too much fear.

"Yes, Harry." Dumbledore patted his knee. "The connection you had to Voldemort was deeper than you knew. He lived on in you."

He had … Voldemort hadn't just been connected to him. He was _in_ him. Hary felt sick. Had he been the reason he was back?

"And I knew this the moment I first saw you after the tragedy you had endured," reminisced Dumbledore. "I held you in my arms and felt the darkness that clung to you and knew that he would return. And I thought – incorrectly – that there was no way I could remove his soul from you. That the only way to remove a Horcrux from a living host was … for the host … to die."

Harry's breath stopped in his chest. Blue eyes met green and Harry looked in them, in his face, in his hands, anywhere that might tell him that what he said wasn't true.

Dumbledore looked just … so guilty. "Harry, my boy, Miss Granger figured out what you were and came to me. Demanding what my plan was to remove it from you. My plans … there was hope that you would return to us. If, if only Tom could cast the Killing Curse once more upon you, it might kill his soul and spare yours. Perhaps you would live that way. That the gift of your wand, of your scar, and of your mother's love would protect you just enough, one last time to keep you in this world."

"You – you were going to let him kill me," Harry breathed.

Suddenly Hermione's words made sense. The Headmaster was going to give him to Voldemort, was going to get him killed. And he knew this while Harry trotted along ignorantly and also angrily, worrying that the anger in his mind would take him over and make him just like the bad guys.

Harry's eyes welled with tears before he could even contain them. There was no reason to be surprised, no reason for tears – adults never cared about him. His own Aunt barely cared enough to shove medicine at him when he was sick, or to get him shots with DHS,or get him reading glasses from the local grocer. His Uncle and teachers were never kind. Dumbledore though, with his twinkling eyes … He'd always thought he was wanted with the strange man. That he was even cared for.

"I have no doubt you would have understood, when it came to it, that it was necessary," Dumbledore said. "You must understand even now, Harry, that –"

"I don't!" Harry yelled. "I don't understand! How could you?!"

That little bit of anger broke him. The ability to stay strong with straight back and firm face left him, his face crumpling to the tears and his spine bending as if someone had removed a piece of it.

"It was for the greater good."

"I don't care!" Harry yelled. "You were going to give me to him!"

He couldn't let them see this. His body was already wracking itself with sobs, his tears already covering his face. With effort he turned enough to push his face into his pillow, soaking it with his tears.

A hand, the Headmaster's. Harry shook him away. He couldn't take it.

Then a new hand. Softer and warmer, familiar. Hermione. And then, better than the hand, she moved to hug him. He felt safe and it only made him sob harder.

"You should go."

Hermione wasn't speaking to him, but to Dumbledore. She had seen him get upset and was throwing Dumbledore out. Why did she have to care about him so much? It would be easier to stop crying without her trying to help him. Without feeling so safe. How could he try to be strong when she was there to let him be weak?

But … Hermione _was_ safe. Safe and, now, familial. He hiccuped. "He w-was going to let-t, hic, him kill me. I th-thought-"

"Shhh." She didn't want his explanations, instead just lying next to him and sushing him, like you would any crying child.

Harry felt so … protected. Even Dumbledore had said it, that Hermione had figured out yet again what was wrong and tried to help him. That Hermione was angry at him for how he'd been treated. Hermione had gone to bat for him against _Dumbledore_ , the man even Voldemort was scared of. She'd been angry _for_ him. She'd been looking out for _him_. It may have been an accident with the adoption, but Hermione was the second woman in his life who had saved him. His mum first… and now his sister.

He was so angry at Dumbledore, so sad, but maybe the Headmaster was right. Maybe love was more powerful than he'd thought. After all, he'd be dead now without it.


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

For the next few days, the new siblings alternated between sleeping, playing cards, talking, and hanging out with Ron whenever he came by. Whenever they spoke in the middle of the night – in the twilight hours of the spirit – they would talk about the Headmaster, about his life with the Dursleys, about the prophecy, about all of it.

Harry's moods were less dark than they'd been with the Horcrux, but he was still volatile. He had no idea what to do with the emotions that were all his own, no idea how to control the rage that no longer seemed out of nowhere, the glee that didn't have an angry edge, and then the innocence he had reclaimed in his feelings led to a lot of childlike outbursts.

They had a lot of discussion of feelings that week.

Hermione needed less and less sleep time moved forward and – when Harry fell back to sleep – she would sneak through the halls and walk barefoot on the grounds. The magic felt like a cold stream running on her sleepy, fuzzy core. It left her feeling refreshed for a few hours at least before she returned to feeling nearly as tired as Harry.

In her opinion, she'd spend too long the past few weeks in bed, being coddled because of magical depletion. Really, Hermione should stop doing this. It left her feeling weak, useless.

There were regular visits from Severus too, usually after Harry went to sleep as if he knew when that was. Maybe he was on the same wavelength as Dumbledore. But those visits were short and comprised of strategy meetings, not kisses in the dark like she'd hoped.

With all her time with Harry in the wing, she still hadn't told him about Severus. Even with the man in question's blessing it felt too soon. What if something happened? What if Harry met with Voldemort sooner than later? What if he couldn't be taught Occlumency quickly enough? Her mind ran around in circles every time she thought of bringing it up. There were times when speedy thought meant quick action, fast decisions, but there were times like this where it paralyzed her because there was no sure answer to her concerns. It was a risk she didn't _need_ to take, so she jumped between risking it or notso fast no one decision lasted for more that five minutes.

Her doubts kept him away until Friday had come and she had to leave Harry in the hospital wing. The heart-to-heart would have to wait.

Severus had come to collect her after classes ended and she left the infirmary and Harry behind with a hug.

"I'll be back soon," she ruffled his hair in promise before turning to the door.

"Wait!" Harry called out behind her. "Just … don't do anything I would!"

Hermione didn't turn around, but his admonishment had her laughing loudly as she followed Professor Snape out of the Wing. She would swear she could see a small crinkle in the Professor's eyes too.

"You'll find a few of your peers have shown up for your office hours tonight," Severus told her with a smirk. "I suggest you see to them before any _extracurriculars_."

Her confusion had her pushing open the office door a bit warily. From within, five sets of green and silver robes stood and waved or nodded at her.

"What-?" Hermione stumbled as Severus pushed her into the room. "You guys weren't worried, were you?"

Draco and Pansy rolled their eyes, while the other three girls simply remained impassive.

"Please, as if any of your group ever _die_ ," Draco huffed.

Daphne jumped forward and pulled her down onto the chair she was previously on. "Draco just does't want people to know he's a softy. If Potter wasn't right next to you, I think the little princess would have snuck in to see you while you were laid up."

Draco sputtered, but didn't directly contradict the statement. There were a few tugs on her hair and Astoria joined Daphne behind her. "Umm, so what are you girls doing?"

Pansy joined Astoria and Daphne behind her while Draco and Lyra Fawley sat in the chairs in front of her, looking at her cautiously.

"We know you've been summoned, Granger," Lyra said delicately. "Professor Snape thought we'd be able to help prepare you. Or calm you, as the case may be."

"I came to give my eulogy," quipped Draco with a half-formed smirk. "Everyone knows you adopted Saint Potter; I don't fancy anyone close to him taking on the Dark Lord."

"Well, I'm not going to stop you waxing poetic on my behalf," she laughed. "But I'll be fine."

 _Define fine,_ Hermione thought to herself. The thought of facing Fenrir Greyback was actually scaring her more than facing Voldemort, even more than being tortured much to her consternation. It felt wrong to be more afraid of a werewolf, but Targnak had warned her that those in tune with nature magic could feel her … and Greyback was very in touch with his wolf. To the point of savagery and adopting wolf-like characteristics outside the moon. If any werewolf could identify her it would be Greyback.

"No dying, clear?" Pansy told her, pulling one of her curls to emphasize her words. "We know you can fight and you will do it if it comes down to it."

"Ehhem," Severus coughed. The room froze. Hermione saw the tell-tale mirth in his eyes before his smirk made an appearance. He really did enjoy making students sweat. "You are fortunate I care for you all, or that would have been a very foolish declaration to make in my presence."

Even the Slytherins couldn't help but gasp, and Hermione actually joined them. There weren't many situations outside of their chambers where he expressed his feelings so directly. Severus must be just as worried as she was.

"Thanks Uncle Sev," Draco sighed in relief. "Thank you."

Severus tipped his head in acknowledgement but said no more on the subject.

Far too soon her primping was finished and Severus pulled her away from the Slytherins.

"It's time."

The whole room sobered, and it was actually Lyra – the seventh year she knew less than any of the others – who shed a tear for her.

"It's not like I'm dying," she laughed awkwardly. "I'll be back, okay?"

Pansy and Daphne both swallowed her in a hug, and Draco patted her shoulder awkwardly. With the final goodbyes, Severus swept her from the room and towards the Hogwarts gates.

"Hermione, know that I will not be there with you," Severus said. "The Dark Lord knows well that out contract would have me intercede on your behalf. To return to the school, if you are allowed, you will need to apparate yourself. You can envision Hogsmeade or the gates, correct?"

She just nodded, her belly in knots.

"We'll put a masking on your scent. I'm unsure if it is the scent or your magic that will call to Greyback, but it will be additional protection. Keep yourself from any contact, magical or physical, and you will be far more likely to succeed in concealing your identity."

Again, she managed a nod.

When they got to the gates, Severus pulled her into his arms. In the dark of the evening, no one could have seen the soft kiss the two lovers shared. They wouldn't see their closed eyes that didn't open for a long while after the kiss had ended, or the way Hermione savoured the feeling of his warm breath fanning her face, or the way Severus' arms tightened around her before he let her go. No, no one saw their reverent embrace.

The soft silence carried them through the movements of their apparition to the gates of Malfoy Manor, and continued as they made their way up the walk.

Lady Malfoy was there to greet them as she stood stoically in the cold wind. From the red on her cheeks and nose Hermione knew she'd been out there a while. Perhaps by Voldemort's orders, or perhaps to escape the man, but she was clearly freezing as she awaited them.

"Narcissa," Severus greeted, clasping her hands in his.

She managed a weak smile. "Severus. I cannot ask you to join us for dinner, but know I would."

"I understand," he nodded, then turned to Hermione. "Apprentice, this is where I leave you. Do try not to be your defiant self."

 _Stay alive_.

She nodded and followed Mrs. Malfoy inside, not daring to look back at her lover one last time. It was too much of a doom-ridden gesture and she was determined to preserve herself and his secrecy tonight. Severus would not be put in danger, and she would leave this alive.

It was past the massive oaken doors and in the twinkling ballroom that resided the Dark Lord, perched on a carved throne that couldn't have been originally part of the architecture because of its terrifying snake motif. Narcissa seemed to falter, and Hermione had mercy on the woman and swept past her. She would face Voldemort first.

The Death Eaters surrounded her, all fully decked in their garb. The only faces without the horrid silver masks rested next to Voldemort. Remus was on his knees, held by the scruff of his neck by the imposing figure of Fenrir Greyback. Her eyes met his against her will. She wished they hadn't. The werewolf's own eyes widened, his gaze turned hungry. In horror she ripped her gaze from his and focused herself again on the pale figure sat before her.

"Ah, the new princess of the Potter line." The silky voice was filled with his snake venom, ready to inject in her the moment she failed to entertain. "I had thought you would go to the Headmaster to save you. Or perhaps run away. You must know I am … displeased."

"You are angry," Hermione met him eye to eye, not wavering, "even though I made it clear that I was not on your side."

Voldemort lashed out, " _Crucio!_ " And she blocked it, her magic rising to defend her. She was not a full strength, but she had greatly recovered. It was enough for her to diffuse the magic down to the floor beneath her.

Hermione sneered. "What, given up on talking?"

Voldemort rose from his thrown, wand pointed right at her heart. "Your potential is still too great to discard. However, you must learn that I will either be offered your obedience, or I will take it."

His wand redirected from her and pointed at Remus. Before she could stop him, Remus was put under the torture curse and writhing against the ballroom floor. His screams were hoarse and that made it worse; he had already become hoarse with screams before she'd even arrived.

"STOP!" Hermione shrieked, throwing a cutting curse at Voldemort. He had to stop his curse to deflect it, but her curse had brought a reaction from him. Before she could even blink Voldemort had disarmed the wand from her hand and pointed it at her. She didn't fight, not yet. Greyback was too close to Remus, too close for her to rescue him. Still, she glared up at the Dark Lord "Don't. Do that. Again."

Voldemort stalked towards her and she let him grab her by the face. His red eyes seemed to burn a hole through her, and his grip sent a painful series of shocks through her with his dark magic.

"Lupin is here to ensure your obedience," he snarled. "I will do whatever I want to him so long as you dare defy me."

She wrenched her face away from his hand. "Then what do you want?!"

"I know better than to ask for Potter," Voldemort said magnanimously. "I will not make an impossible request. All I want from you is information on the Order. And you."

Hermione bit her lip. Address the first, first. "I'm not part of the Order any longer, not really. Dumbledore still gives me things to do but I'm not on his team."

The room seemed to chill as his gaze sharpened at her.

"Severus did not inform me."

"He doesn't know." She looked away. "It was personal. Dumbledore hasn't even told the rest of the Order. Besides, I don't see why you need me to give you Order information. You have Remus there, and Severus tells you everything anyways."

He prowled around her, leaving her field of vision as she refused to lose dignity by turning. "Severus is … useful, but the old man does not tell him all and Potter despises him. And this werewolf has only information on the packs. They know nothing about the larger plans or about Potter's purpose. And Potter is the weapon the old man uses the most."

"You've got that right."

Th words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and the room stilled. Remus's worn, tired face snapped up in surprise and shock. Hermione bit her tongue to keep herself from trying to justify herself; she would only make things worse if she tried to elaborate.

"What's this?" Voldemort came back into her sights. "Dissatisfaction with the great Albus Dumbledore, from _you_? What did he do that has turned you against him?"

She stared resolutely down, not making eye contact and not responding to him.

Her chin was wrenched upwards as Voldemort once again crowded her personal space. He made her look as he directed his wand lazily in the direction of Remus' pale form. "Tell me. Now."

What to say, what to say …. She definitely could not tell him the truth about the horcruxes – even thought that was the whole problem – and so she searched for some half-truth to feed him.

She decided to give Voldemort a half-truth in the form of what Dumbledore was refusing him.

"I know about the prophecy."

Voldemort's eyes turned victorious. "Do you know the whole of it?"

"No." Hermione saw no point in lying, but with his fingers tight on her jaw she still felt the adrenaline pushing her words out more rushed than she intended. "But neither of you will leave Harry alone because of it! I hate Dumbledore because he wanted Harry to face you … knowing Harry might die. Would die. He told me it was for the 'greater good'!"

Voldemort's eyes widened. Past his face she could see Remus staring in disbelief and wished she could have spared him that. She hadn't thought he would believe that, but maybe he trusted the pack bond they had more than she knew.

"I just want Harry safe," Hermione realized exactly what she'd done – Voldemort now had an opening, and she now had a way out. If she could convince this man that she wasn't on Dumbledore's side, that all she wanted was for him to leave Harry alone, they could use that. Maybe she'd be a spy too. "He never signed up for any of this! Whatever the prophecy says, he deserves to live… he's a good person. An innocent."

"And?"

The cold word cut right through the heat of her words. Voldemort was simply stood there, face hard, but fully using all his height to look down on her even while standing so far from his followers he could have been on his own planet. They orbited him, true, but no one interfered with him. It made him seem gigantic.

Voldemort and her shared looks. She had no idea which of her many emotions were on her face, but whichever it was earned a smirk from the man.

"Don't look so confused," he said. "You don't truly expect me to care about the little nuisance's life, do you? One life is nothing in the face of my goals. Innocence does not protect them."

He held up his hand to stop her anger. "However … I could be convinced to avoid seeking out the boy."

"Hermione, don't!"

She couldn't stop herself. Once Remus' magic panicked and her eyes connected with his, her magic _had_ to reach out and make sure he was okay. The moment was in slow-motion to her; her non-corporeal magic washing over Remus, his face relaxing a little, and then the magic reaching the back of Remus' neck where Fenrir's hand rested. She could feel the way it tingled when in contact with the Alpha, and then she saw how Fenrir's gaze sharpened on her as he tossed Remus to a few Death Eaters to his side, freeing him to stalk towards her.

"No, no, don't you dare come closer." Hermione walked backwards, panicking. She could see the long sniff Fenrir took when he got near. "Voldemort!"

"Fenrir, you're interrupting," the man interceded, although he was clearly confused at her panic, his words slow. "Why such a reaction, though?"

Fenrir then jumped at her. Without using her magic she couldn't avoid him. His full weight collided with her and she was knocked down on her back, the fierce werewolf above her. His hand cradled her head roughly, both protecting her from banging it on the floor but also wrapping around her neck in a demand for submission.

"Don't," she whimpered, suddenly more afraid than all the time she'd been with Voldemort. One word from Greyback, and she knew her peaceful anonymity was over. One word and Severus could be compromised. "Please."

"I love it when my females beg," he growled, his bloody lips trailing across her neck. "You smell so … fertile."

"She is spoken for, wolf," Greengrass hissed from the corner. "Release the Lady."

Greyback ignored him, continuing to smell her. She felt him pressed against her and momentarily wondered if it was worth keeping her secret. If she didn't need to hide her training, her magic, herself, she could throw off the wolf. But if he didn't tell his Master … she might still have her secret by the end of the night. She waited.

"I can feel your magic, witch," Greback's tongue came out for a lick, making her flinch. "You are bound to the wilds. An alpha female in your own right. It makes me … _itch_ … itch to be near you. That is how you bonded to Lupin, isn't it? Do you use him to power yourself? Do you pull magic from the animal in him?"

"Never," she denied. "I help him."

"You should be helping an Alpha," he purred. "Your smell pleases me. Familiar … powerful."

"Get off me!" she pushed against his chest. "I don't care what I smell like to you!"

She gagged a little when his tongue trailed down her neck and he hummed in appreciation of her _flavor_.

"I have not smelled something so sweet in twenty-five years," he purred. "Too long."

From behind Greyback, she heard, "Twenty-five years …."

No, no. Voldemort sounded relflexive. If twenty-five years was when Mrs. Oswin last met Voldemort then he was piecing it together. He was seconds away from the discovery if he was anywhere near as smart as she thought.

"Greyback, you remember the delightful Miss Lleonelin?" Voldemort called. "Tell me, how does she compare with our Miss Granger?"

"Just like her."

It was confirmed. It was out. Voldemort knew.

Hermione kicked her magic up and threw Greyback, against the far wall with nothing raised but her hand. She jumped up to her feet as quickly as possible and kicked off the flats on her feet. The glowing would only betray her further, but she needed the power. She was surrounded by Death Eaters, Greyback was in front of her, and Voldemort had her wand.

Her feet pressed flat onto the stone floor and the tidal wave of magic rose from beneath her up to her knees, then stomach, then shoulders, then all the way up to the top of her head. Once it reached her top the energy had nowhere left in her body to go and so left her body, circling her. From with her bubble, she felt untouchable. She just needed her wand … Speaking of … she turned to Voldemort and glared.

"Here's what's going to happen;" she hissed, "you are going to give me my wand, give me Remus, and let me leave. You will not come after me. You will not try to find my bondmate. In fact, just forget what you just figured out and leave me the hell alone."

Voldemort stood there with a Grinch-like smile spreading across his face. "I knew you were special; a new link witch, a source of wondrous power. Oh, dear thing, do you even know how to use it?"

Hermione scoffed. "I've heard better lines from movie villains, Voldemort. Will you let me leave, or is this going to come to a fight?"

Voldemort leaned back and regarded her, his gaze steady. A pin dropping could have been heard as his red eyes held her brown ones, both testing the air. Finally, the tension broke when Voldemort tossed her wand carelessly through the air. "I have learnt how to deal with your kind, Apprentice, but I am unprepared to do so today. Take your werewolf and go, but know that we _will_ be meeting again. And when we do … you will be _mine_."

The Death Eaters holding Remus tossed him towards her, nearly knocking her off her feet as she tried to catch him. He was unsteady but held on firmly as she hefted him up by the shoulders.

"Come on, we've got to go," Hermione urged her old Professor. "Come on, hurry."

The Death Eaters were all sneering and glaring as she rushed out of the room. Behind her she could hear Voldemort's voice echo through one more time;

"I'll be seeing you _very_ soon, Apprentice."


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

* * *

Hermione sat by Lupin's bedside, but her thoughts weren't on Remus. Her magic still wasn't strong enough to fully heal him – the werewolf bites on his neck, shoulders, and ankles were still there, scarring – but he was fine otherwise and under the care of Madame Pomphrey.

Her thoughts were instead focused on Severus. He wasn't here. Not in the castle. And he wasn't there when she'd arrived. There was no chance for her to warn him about her revealed status, no chance to beg him not to return to his Master … now she was left waiting for the ghost pains to tell her he was being punished. Because of her.

It had been hours and yet no pain tingled in her magic. Maybe her unmasking had made Voldemort too happy to torture anyone today… Maybe Severus was safe.

"Are you alright?"

If anyone else had lain their hand on her shoulder – especially a certain Headmaster – she wouldn'thave been able to take it. But this was Harry. Her now-brother, her best friend. Equal to Severus in her heart and the most earnest boy she knew.

"I'm fine … you should really be resting." Hermione looked back at the black-haired boy with a forced smile. "Poppy'll have my head if she thought I was bothering you."

He snorted lightly. "Sirius will be here soon, though, and I'm not going to sleep through it and don't you try to make me!"

It was silly, but intentionally. Harry saw light flicker in his sister's face before it once more darkened. "We're a family, right?"

Where had that come from? She glanced up quizzically, but nodded. "Of course."

"Then tell me what's wrong."

Hermione sighed and turned away, not meeting those piercing green eyes. Sometimes Harry became like a dog with a bone. She did too, to be fair, but it was easy to dismiss your own faults.

But should she tell him? There was really only two things Voldemort didn't know now – Severus and their knowing about his Horcruxes – and Harry was her brother now. THe thought of telling him those things Voldemort knew made her stomach clench uncomfortably. Why? Maybe because she'd been keeping so much of this between her and Severus.

"Remember when I told you about my magic? Well . . ."

Next to Remus' bed, she told him about her powers, about how she'd gotten them, about how she'd been hiding them while still trying to help people. Arthur Weasley, Remus, Sirius, Kreacher … Severus. She glanced over that one – Harry noticed, but said nothing – and then told him how that had drawn in the elves, the goblins, Voldemort, and then _Greyback_.

"Anyone who senses my magic seems to try to get closer," she told him. "So You-Know-Who has been trying to guess at what I am and how to turn me to him."

"When I drew Greyback's attention, I knew it was over. He'd met Mrs. Oswin in the last war and recognized my powers. Voldemort knows my weakness now! My bondmate. Every woman like me needs someone to ground their magic and to take their excess." Hermione screeched, pulling at her hair. "I'm so scared that he'll be found out. I'm here and I can't even warn him, can't even see him right now! I can't reach him! What if something happens to him because of me?"

Like a good brother, Harry said nothing and just held her.

* * *

"Severussss … Come to me."

No sign of Hermione existed within the room. No blood on the floor, to his relief, and no bushy hair in any corner. Not that he could be overt in his scrutiny. His gaze was firmly forward as he strode to face his Master. When he reached the makeshift throne, he bowed deeply.

"My Lord."

At this point his Lord would normally have him stand and join his brother, or receive special instruction. He was not told to rise. Not this time.

THe Dark Lord instead rose and circled him.

"Tell me about Miss Granger. Again. Leave _nothing_ out this time."

Severus' heart stopped as he realized what that order meant: Voldemort had either discovered her status, or he'd discovered their dalliance. To not divulge the second would be suicide, but if he knew the first the second would put Hermione in harm's way. Neither were things he could admit to safely.

He bowed deeper. "I have told you everything, my Lord, that I have noticed. She is above average and clearly strong magically, but I have no explanations for you as to how."

Voldemort tutted. "Not good, my _loyal_ servant. Another chance, then. Did you know your apprentice was a link witch?"

Severus could only claim ignorance now. "And what is a link witch, precisely?"

Another tsk. "You disappoint me, Severus. Very well, another question then.

"Any romances? Dalliances? One-time affairs at all within the length of her apprenticeship?" The question came calmly, but Severus knew that was only hiding the man's most deadly urges.

"I have not allowed her such frivolities, and to my knowledge she had not defied me in this."

There. Perfectly reasonable as an excuse and one that they'd already told Hermione's peers.

"She must have one!" Voldemort his now, his impatience rising. "It would be a muggle, someone she knows, one she visits regularly. She could not be apart from him for long, she would suffer, dearly, if she even tried! She must be visiting somewhere, you inept fool! You must know something."

His Occlumency was now tight against his consciousness. Hermione was pushed to the back of his mind – she must mean nothing to him in this moment, everything would mean nothing now unless it incited anger – and he responded, "I am sorry, my Lord, but I have no knowledge of such."

"Then you must be punished, Severus," the Dark Lord told him, voice deadly, "for your failure as a spy."

He prostrated himself low. "As you command, my Lord."

"You will not even have the pleasure of my wand," Voldemort hissed. "There is but one punishment you truly fear, Severus. Greyback!"

Severus felt himself go faint in fear. He'd never once lost his fear of werewolves, not since Lupin had nearly killed him in the Shrieking Shack. Still, he held himself stiffly and focused all fear into anger as Greyback came up from behind him.

"Well, wolf?" He growled. "Do you worst."

The werewolf growled at the challenge. He was the alpha, the dominant. He would be shown respect. He took the Professor's robes in his hand and pulled, choking him, squeezing the breath from him as his fist rotated and tightened the man's stiff collar. Once he was properly position, that robe was ripped apart between the shoulder and rent from his body. THe scars of his previous bites shows all over his body. Severus knew that, in some way, those scars would appease the wolf. It was why he'd never asked Hermione to heal him as she had Lupin. For such a time as this.

Without further ceremony he was pressed down in a humiliating position, forced by a hand in his hair to arch and offer his neck to the werewolf. Straight for the jugular, then. He barely had time for this thought before Greyback began his snack.

The bite was not deep, but nothing could stop the unbearably unclean bite, the stinging in the wound and the pain of razors piercing his skin. He feared death always in that moment, when a werewolf of questionable restraint had him so vulnerable. He did not pull his neck away – he knew it would only hurt more, only cause more damage – but his legs kicked and jerked involuntarily.

Then the bite stopped.

Severus dropped callously to the ground and GReyback stared at him with a hunger he had never seen before. Yes, the werewolf enjoyed him, but never with that gleam in his eyes. And he'd _never_ let go mid-bite.

"You. You bonded to the alpha female."

Severus instantly stiffened. No. No. He fumbled around, as if delirious with pain, and tried to reach his portkey. He always kept it in his boot. If he could reach it …

"No, you're wrong, you must be!" He denied as earnestly as he could. "I would never touch a woman of yours, you filthy beast!"

Greyback growled, his eyes glowing dangerously. "Not mine. Your girl, the apprentice. The link witch."

Severus sneered at the werewolf. "A mudblood? I would not!"

He tried, but the moment he so much as touch his shoe his fumblings were noticed for what they were. Voldemort stood and waved his wand in a very simply motion. His wand was not quick enough and he was immediately frozen, pretrified. Fully aware but unable to move.

"Drawing your wand on your Master?" Voldemort hissed, descending on him. "It seems I have found your true loyalties, Severus. I have treated you just as any other servant, better, even, as I pitied you! Yet you raise your wand to me, you hide this from me!"

"Traitor! I knew it! I knew he would betray you, Master!" Bellatrix cackled madly. "Let me punish him! Let me kill him!"

Voldemort ignored the commotion of his follwers. "Greyback, you are certain? He is hers?"

Behind him he heard the smacking of lips. Greyback was no doubt licking his lips, showing just how sure he was. Severus took the moment where the attention was not on him to try to waandlessly unfreeze himself. The magic of Voldemort was too strong.

Voldemort's attention returned to him and the anger at his wand was now tinted with victory.

"Well, well. It seems we have our bait for the witch," Voldemort laughed. A cold, high sound that sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't let him do this. He would die first, kill himself before he'd let his Master kill the woman he'd finally found love with, a woman too good for him, a woman who deserved to live where he did not. But he could do nothing. "I had no idea she could select a wizard for her consort. Oh, this will be sweet. Punish a traitor and capture an elusive magic all in one go. Yes, I can see it in your eyes, the determination. She is precious to you, isn't she? You would fight even me for a taste of her. Oh, Severus, you should know better than to throw everything away for woman.

"Lucius!" he barked out behind him. "I believe you know Severus well. Strip him. Search him. He will have measures and countermeasures hidden on his person and I will not have him ruin my plans with an unseen weapon."

It was the best person he could have asked for. Lucius would not take advantage of this order, nor would he do anything truly unsavoury. But being stripped was to disarm him completely. His spare potions were in his pockets, and two portkeys in his shoe and in the lining of his robes. The necklace Hermione had given him to communicate with her would be taken too. When even his underwear was removed – the button in his boxers that would tell Dumbledore he'd been captured and discovered – was taken from him and burned with his other things. Jeers and laughs from the crowd at his naked form were only made worse as Malfoy's hand brushed over every inch of his skin. He still had one hop, one last failsafe that Mafloy might just overlook, might even lie about if he truly was his friend –

No, his hand paused right at the mole-like birthmark he'd fatsened with a sticking charm right to his skin. Death Eaters tended to bind hands right behind the back like common thugs, and he'd placed the mole right at the top of his buttocks so he could reach it in that very instance. Dumbledore had placed the Order's Pheonix right there, underneath, in an embarrassing exchange behind close and heavily warded doors. One touch and the Order could be notified. He took little comfort in knowing Malfoy could not remove the phoenix, could not even see it, but one detection spell strong enough …

Malfoy moved again. Severus was surprised, very surprised. Did Lucius truly consider him such a close friend as to defy his Lord, or did he not believe the birthmark was false?

"He is now unarmed, my Lord."

Naked, frozen, and in front of everyone was on par with the the humiliations of his youth but he could not focus on it in the face of his very real fear. Voldemort was looking at him with clear anger, but it was tempered by a much worse look; desire. Not for his body, no, but for his value.

He could not move, could not plead his case … he would not be able to manipulate his way out of this, not yet.

Then Wormtail was summoned. At first the little rat thought he was going to be honoured, allowed some privilege over Severus. The rodent stood between Voldemort and Severus with wand raised, ready to show the same malevolence the other Marauders did as children. But as he braced for the attack, Voldemort loomed behind the Potter's betrayer, a golden dagger glinting dangerously overhead.

* * *

Hermione jumped from her brother's arms, a sudden, stabbing pain going through her heart. Her bond … the magic seemed to pull against her, straight from the center of feeling, and painfully wrenched her forward to an empty space where her mate should be.

 _Where he should be … No!_ Hermione pulled herself back, panicked. _Severus!_ It took everything she had not to go to him then. He was not dying, she would be able to feel it, but her magic was panicking trying to find him. No, no, if she followed the pull she knew she would land back with Voldemort. But she couldn't feel Severus!

She didn't even realize she'd been clawing at her chest until Harry grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her.

"Hermione!" His panicked green eyes tried to bring her back to focus. "'Mione! Come on, come back! What's happened? Is it a vision, like mine?"

"Severus, Severus is in trouble!" She was squirming in his grip. "It hurts, it hurts! I need him!"

His eyes narrowed at her. "He's the guy you bonded to, isn't he?"

Tears flowed to her eyes. The secret didn't matter anymore, not when he is captured. "Yes, yes, he is, I'm sorry! We need to save him, I need him!"

Her resistance was falling, she wanted to go to him so badly.

Then, as if sensing her distress, Dumbledore arrived. One look and he was over to the fireplace and summoning help. Mrs. Oswin was through in a blaze of green in an instant, taking Hermione into her arms and flushing her with magic. She was singing almost, chanting into Hermione's ear, into her magic. Her voice washed the magic over it's escaping tendrils, smoothing them back into her main core. The pain in her heart receded some, but became bearable.

"I have to save him," Hermione cried to the woman. Her kind, elderly face could only show her sorrow instead of the comfort she craved. "Please."

"You mustn't, sweetling." Mrs. Oswin tightened the magic around her. "It is how he lures us into his power. Your bonded one is now in the center of a trap just for you, a field wherein if you enter you will not be able to escape, a cage for your magic. If you follow the pull you will land right in the middle of it and he will have you. Do you understand?"

Hermione sniffled. "But … what if he's hurt? What if .. they …"

"He will not be killed," Mrs. Oswin promised, her face grave. "That man knows the only way to ensure your cooperation is your love. You-Know-Who will take no risks with his life and will ensure his survival."

Then, a sad, pensive look. "What I've done can only last so long, my girl. It will only delay what must be. You must be with him. This will … give you time to prepare. But the longer you are without him, the more your magic will try and force you there."

Hermione looked around. Dumbledore looked on tiredly from the fireplace, moving no closer, and Harry looked so worried she thought his heart may break for her.

"How long?"

"A week, maybe more if you stay rooted to the earth. But you will still go."

It was too soon. Harry had been saved, but there were still Horcruxes about. The snake, possibly another. And they weren't ready to take him on. Not truly.

And Umbridge ... if she left, who knows what she would do to Harry. They'd just thrown their bond in her face, and if she disappeared the cow might just take advantage.

So she needed to rescue him. Herself. She needed to keep him from Voldemort until they were ready to kill him. But there would be no freedom for her, not the kind she could offer Harry. Severus was captured and soon she'd be drawn back to him, slammed in the same cage as him.

She needed to plan, but she couldn't. Her whole body was being thrown about by her magic as if in a turbulent wind. Mrs. Oswin told her that she had never tried the spell before and it wasn't working the way she'd hoped. She needed to be grounded more. Her feet were now constantly pressed into the earth below her but it didn't stop the ache.

"You need more grounding," Mrs. Oswin bathed her brow as she flushed with fever. "Is there no one else like us you know of, Albus? There must be someone on the other continents."

Hermione groaned out, forcefully, " _Grishkna_."

"Of course, the goblins," Dumbledore exhaled. "I'll be back soon."

Hours seemed to pass, and in her haze she briefly realized that Dumbledore was an enemy of the goblins now and he had gone to see them. Targnak might not even come since the Headmaster was the one asking. But her focus turned back to the reaching and reaching of her magic.

Finally, a rough, knobbly hand rested on her head. A last shield drew over her to hold back her magic just enough for the haze to pass. She opened her eyes to see Targnak, a face filled with both shared sorrow and anger.

"Thank you," she breathed in relief.

He bowed his head to her. "Your enemies be my enemies, your trials mine to support. The dark one has done this to you. He has stolen your mate."

The words caught in her throat, so she merely nodded.

Her Grishkna's eyes hardened. "Then it is war."

"It's not time," she croaked. "We're not ready."

The goblin shook his head. "We will not move before you, Apprentice, but we are at your call in the fight against him. You are our sister, and we your brothers-in-arms. We stand with you."

"Are you in control?" Dumbledore stood off to the side, where she saw a half-dozen goblins standing between him and their leader.

Her body still felt feverish, her mind still distracted by a pull on her magic, but she was coherent enough. She nodded.

"Then we need to prepare."


End file.
